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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Philosophy · #1951208
Like some ancient Pagan god of Justice and Revenge...
You and I
We set our eyes upon some distant star
And, so in love, endeavored
Only to curse these tiny, fragile bodies
That would sooner die than deliver us there.
All our hopes and haunts, our frustrated dreams,
Little more than the dust of a million years before.
Maybe someday rediscovered, studied on another world,
Surely to be scorned by most as nothing short of fools
But held aloft as heroes by a few,
To forsake the safety of our home and, never satisfied,
Cast ourselves into something so cold and vast
As what lies between, or the lengths we would go
To overcome the relativity of existence and insignificance.

But these idealistic things
Aren't quite as omnipresent as I'd have them seem.
Mine is a pragmatic philosophy,
Proverbs to sustain a mind as content with ignorance
As it would ever be to rail in such a way against it.
I wish I had the means to say just how readily
I could accept a world comprised of nothing more
Than 'You and I', the night, this mountainside.
It's times like this I wish I'd never learned
To speak, or write, or feel, or think.
I wish for once I could say what I really mean:
How easily you complicate the simplest of my certainties.
How easily I could resent you just for loving me.

For to turn back in surrender, now
After all the years it took to reconcile
This part of me that yearns to be
The dust that reached a distant star,
If it meant no more than
I could finally consider "Us" as casually as others do
But lose, in turn, that awesome voice -
That razor's edge of clarity -
This part of me that craves a proper legacy,
That speaks in terms of Epics and Eternity,
That goes to war and, thus far, knows only victory.

I could tell you how it feels to be invincible,
To stand alone unbeaten on the battlements
And rage against a world that was my enemy.
Rage against a world that dared to challenge me.
Like some ancient Pagan god of Justice and Revenge
I stood alone, content, until it felt
As if I stood for nothing but the way of war itself.

You and I
We set our eyes upon some distant star
And in the time it took to point it out, I knew
That all my wars had raged around the thought of you,
That all it took was something beautiful
To leave behind a fight that I could never lose
And pick the one that I so desperately wanted to.

*Author's Note: This is a style of poetry I like to describe as "very well aware of itself" when it comes to its own delivery. Consider it as more of a spoken piece, if necessary. Thanks for your time! ~Drew
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