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Rated: E · Poetry · Philosophy · #2260707
A cynics endeavour to seek out love from within the manifolds of life and fiction.
A while longer he urged my eyes to stay fixed upon yours,
A moment further he coaxed my feet to accompany yours,
In the while he relates of moments and his purpose soars,
Out of my wilted soul and into my tearful pours.

He stabbed them into the withering grounds,
Striking a seed buried deep within its crevices,
My nights shade its shoots and lively pounds,
Daylight bathes its turn about a gilded trellis.

Many whiles have passed and at a moment farthest,
He stands watering the blooms in a courtyard,
I approached Love dressed in his purest,
My tale he told as a cheery bard;
The soul who caught Love in its prime,
Impressed on every hope and ticking in all accompanied time.
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