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by fyn
Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1702242
A song for a rare spirit
There is sense of the mage in you,
a lilt, a spark, a mischievous grin,
weaving words with honest truth with
a wisdom born where stars begin.

There is sense of the boy in you
that peeks out behind the mask of the man,
that precious gleam of innocence and joy
that yet knows the work that dreams demand.

There is sense of the muse in you
that sees beyond what mortals see,
who grasps sheer essence from beyond the pale
clothes it in words, and sets it free.

There is sense of bard in you
so driven to impart the age old tales
imbued with spirit, and with fire,
no path be needed to follow your trail.

With eyes that look deep, I see you,
with mind wide open, I offer my heart.
with hands to touch, to hold, to feel
I hear your words, hear music start.

There is sense of the knight in you
slaying dragons who beard the gate,
who staunchly defends and protects his own--
who knows when to parry, when to wait.

There is sense of the druid in you,
Akin to nature, knows its song,
hears the singing of the mountains,
knows water's power; gentle or strong.

There is sense of sand in you
the kind that when worried, results in pearl
as you wander on your journey,
as emotions kaleidoscope and whirl

There is sense of the heart in you
galaxies deep, that beats with fire,
that simply is as much as you you are
--that doesn't cease, that doesn't tire.

All these things I sense in you
mobius layers to infinite ken,
that celebration of kindred souls
and I am so humbled to call you friend.
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