You must login to vote
(to the best thing in life, so far)
He is silver.
I sleep next to my lover
Passionate, his thoughts spin in my head
a droplet -- into a still, blue pool
where I can view the frugal, blurry stars
dancing the clandestine vortex of whirlpools
He sleeps next to my thoughts
And I, spin, lost, forever awed into newborn stars
Oh, glimpse the stars:
They bury themselves in the depths of vast darkness.
You, shine, so young as a sweet fellow
indulges, fixes his black of an intrigue, minute hair;
clean-shaven, he looks at the mirror,
to see imperfections flawlessly
grow with him. A mistake for beauty.
You see things that way.
at the nondescript looking-glass, at life
by years of solitude. Our lives flicker,
yet in the succession of quickened flights,
we are sonorous, ductile, and
quintessential in captured moments
yet we differ in luster.
Yet we are one:
Sleep, thoughts, in fluid-like dreams,
yet to kiss more
high polished, he becomes my ardor
He gazes into my eyes
words speaking the opacity of Iris love
a beautiful moth asking the fire:
Candid color, you are stark clear, shimmering,
My thoughts awaken me
like a candle radiating
lithium brightness in the dark.
You! Hold me, Silver, my element to a Substance.
Be daring, be different, be impractical, be anything that will assert integrity of purpose and imaginative vision against the play-it-safers, the creatures of the commonplace, the slaves of the ordinary. -- Sir Cecil Beaton (1904-1980) English photographer