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Array
(
[sid] => 143377
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Surrender (revisited)
[time] => 2008-06-20 09:26:01
[hometext] => not sure how i feel about the last two paragraphs. always, abraham
[bodytext] => Surrender me, my heart is the water of the river that runs along the emptiest night, the stars are my fever and reed that dips, and sings among the sand, had I ever known such depth, the dusts of my love spat from the shadow of my eyes—your shadow swells, and casts no longer into your depths. There are those loves that, as the mighty thunders bellow and trumpet their fury, face ahead, and heave against their own intrepid light. We are not of that love. No, we are of the tiniest waters to play among the surf that of its own regard, withdraws, and sweeps away the sand, we are the songs of the sons of the dead that stumble and choke with broken voice, and we are their tears that smolder and grow. Surrender me, for you are the light that burdens no shadow, and I am the shadows that fall claim to the night, and can give you no more than your own acquittal. Might I say I love, and with open arms adore, and break your wings so that should never soar again—is it not in your desire to know the sky again, is it not in your heart to broaden your wings and touch the moon again? Your hour is upon you, your choice has fluttered near, my tethered gentle petal, to trust your waters clear, and sip your boundless love, but suffer not your eyes upon me, let your sight lay forward and above, and falter nothing in your stead. My love is to be shadow cast upon the vacancies of light, my light the darkness of the darkest night. I walked among the lilies beside the waters end, I drank of the moon, and of all the stars that descend, one fell bright against my breast, and by you, I have slept, and by you, I have wept and kissed so gently and sought to keep your breath. Alas, from the seizure of my heart, to the calamity of land, I could not bear you, your love upon the stand of anger and distrust. To complete you, the fierce and frozen plume that draws the sunlight to your face, I find myself afraid. You are the silver night riding over empty plains, the moonlight over shattered waters, your locks unfold against the currents of the spring, and the song of your sorrow is a beautiful love. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 157 [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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