The persistence of myth

The stories of generations float through space, living on in the minds, hearts and discs of untold millions. If the world were devoid of the human race, its myths would live on still, lying dormant, until an intrepid adventurer stumbles on a memory bank - and the stories would burst forth like a raging flood, bringing the race to life once again.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Desire

Show thine fair visage
For the days are gray

And dismal the trees
As they bend to the wind...

Let me hear thine gentle voice
Through these swirling mists
That draw a painted veil
And obscure the winding path

Talk to me in tender tones
Of love that lives beyond
The chains of earthly days
That bind us to the ground

Breathe your life giving breath
The perfumed kiss of life
O'er this body so frail
Unable to keep the faith

Touch me with your burning thoughts
For the hearth is cold
And the chill creeps through
It freezes the night

Hold me in your tender embrace
I fear I have to go
The fates they do tear me away
I dearly want to stay


3 comments:

Pat Noir said...

I love you poem "Desire". I feel as though I wrote it myself,I am touched deeply. I identify completely. Thank you.

Patrick Wachtl

Vikram said...

Thank you Patrick. That means a lot to me.

Unknown said...

Beautiful!