History of Her Story Magnitudes shift and mountains move Feel the force heightening like a heady rise and a frightening fall Feel the subtlety in the taint of power Grab me a brush so I can paint her story upon the canvas of my life. Daily the mantra of the melody solidifies Watch her fall and crumble within the repeated refrains of time Plummeting through space she catches a glimpse of all that was and never will be Once more flight has lost its beauty and the world is but a gray sleet Like rain, sometimes when it rains Tales of heartbreak and the ruins that remain Honesty is a patchwork, a quilt of endless pain covers her slender frame There is joy in her story She surmised that magic is what you make it And your feet will only move, your heart will only stir to that specific music Her tears only dried to refill and spill in bucketfuls of hot feelings anguish insurmountable and real Like iron will and steel of the strength of her determination, Theres no fleeing this fight, a steep stop The edge of this is very near Her story becomes a faint legacy etched in the back of time In the corners of her mind it fades like a distant line From a distant song Long after the music has stopped Whispers begin to enfold the groves Her story will go on Echoing haunting carols. Leitmotif. Van Jackson, 2014.
Posted on: Mon, 10 Mar 2014 05:41:26 +0000
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