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NAVIGATION
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.:Love:.
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When you turned me away,
oceans of air
were able to soothe my flaming skin
as I paraded through a valley,
watched rushing water crash crisply on rocks underfoot,
and sung my dreams to the evening sky.
The eve of the next moon
saw me frozen to your attempted expression,
and as your words and
my salvation in them
were yet to grace my life,
I was left with my own,
and for these words,
I chose a song written by God Himself
and screamed it loudly towards heaven
- in vain -
or so I thought,
for as the last note fell,
ten thousand years truly could not have mattered
as you and I met on eachother's horizons
like some strange dual sunrise
and I turned you away
to spite my inner tears.
But these stones, already cast,
are behind both of us now,
as since then,
I've held you in my arms
completely unconscious
of the way you felt in my hands
and completely in awe
of the way you salvaged my heart
with your softest words,
most true and most beautiful,
I've lay lost in a sea of your hair,
bathing in the softest of my pleasures,
wondering if you could ever
learn the hardest truth from me,
and today
I wonder how
out of all the angels that tried and failed
beating their haloes against my cold walls,
and screaming tears like rain from heaven,
you could be the one that saves me,
how out of all the stars, you are my golden sun
- or if this could ever be,
and though I know
you could never love these eyes
and that it's not meant to be,
fate seems to have convinced me otherwise.
Despite the grim cynicism of those around me,
predicting tall horrors from the days you're gone,
I am still certain,
as in your own description of faith,
I will hold on to my belief in you
regardless of the contagious cynics in my life
and as my eyes close, my heart opens, and I
am taken away -
in God's private satellite
to a picture perfect memory
of the sweetest times, not so long ago...
and yet it is always at these moments
of the sweetest certainty,
new beasts emerge from war
and new ideas from stagnant minds,
and as this whole creation is the work of a higher hand,
my self deceptions nearly outweigh your deception of me
and I know,
like I've always known,
that the worth of words diminishes as their population rises
and this is a most unprofitable act.
- fate has eternal ways of victory.
Written over four months, 2002
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Copyright© Murat Ates 2004
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