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Array
(
[sid] => 120025
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Of the secrecies of day.
[time] => 2006-05-14 00:23:00
[hometext] => playing ^_^ always, abraham
[bodytext] => Considering her, I am lost. A black dawn settles over the stars, and I sleep. It is in my dreams that I am furthest from her, her laughing, enraptured form soaring high over the mountains of my love. I cannot, in the depths of my deepest dreams; dream the depth of her eyes. She is a flower to the sky, the tiniest water written in the sea; yet I cannot begin to comprehend the immensity of her love. (There is no word with the capacity to endure the overwhelming renewal of her smile.) She is a shadow drawn simply beneath the extremity of the sun, a ragged, drowning sorrow mounting the front lines of sea, stirring and shifting the fingers of the tide. She is a masquerade buried in the density of love; a shining star fled over the last remaining night, a grim charge toward the secrecies of day. She is the empty battlefield forgotten by her brothers; by her son; she is rigid, sad, and afraid; the sounds of trumpets bellow in the distance. She is the mother of a broken home. A long silence awaits her, and she is calm. There is nothing left. She is all that I consider, as I drift softly in to sleep, all that I dream when I find myself awake. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 168 [topic] => 2 [informant] => iodinelove [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => LovePoetry )
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