Sunday, February 26, 2012

Not Yet.

Not yet, my dream isn't shattered yet,
It's just shaded by dark clouds
but even if there'd be gloom
throughout the day,
I still can't wait
until there's enough darkness
in the night
and I'd surely find the stars.

Not yet, the sun is still there
and like my dream,
the sun of love isn't shattered yet;
though layers of thickening mass
are covering its brilliance,
it has not yet set.

My love in its periodic constancy
will shine; it will shine
because is has the light
of truth,
of sincerity,
of nobility,
of a lasting faith
and devotion.

Yet there might be things
that will cover its splendor
things that are even more
irrepressible
and uncontrollable like
distance,
absence,
grief
and probably men who'd tend to blind thy senses,
falsity that would weaken thy will,
and sham that would slacken thy soul.

To thee I've surrendered,
the enigma of my love and life
have been eased, though, somehow,
I'm tormented, tortured, and threatened
because nature itself
is against me.

Not yet... not yet

the clouds are but the layer of grief
to test how enduring
how penetrating,
how clear
would the sun appear to be.
The dark of the night
is but a field of gloom
to challenge the stars
to glow its gold,
to sparkle its sublimity,
to glitter its grandeur,
to savor its silence.

Not yet, my lovely one,
my dream isn't shattered yet.
If dreaming you want me to do,
dream will I
even with a sigh
and dream will I
till the day I die.

Let me still be by thy side
so we can feel the warmth
of a burning passion.

Don't take thy heart away from me,
'tis the substance that has given me life;
its being, is my life.

I'll place thee deep in my soul
and when darkness comes
and doubt begins
and dread commences
and gloomy grief ensues,
the love that is instilled in my core
will shine through
and happiness will come after darkness,
belief and faith will be strengthened,
courage will bear me
without feeling the pain
and my love will radiate
evermore
in the realm of dreams and mirth.

So not yet, Siobz, not yet.

2 comments:

  1. The cadence and the certainty of the language reminds me so much of Neruda. Your best written poem yet... probably because you write from deep within the soul. :)

    - The Magnificent

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Bro. These are but words which sprung from the very core of my existence which I offer as a garland upon the neck of Her Ladyship.

      -The Villainous

      Delete