A son of the east coast, ascendant.
Yin to yang
in he most western sense.
unable to Believe.
But resolute on your path,
never straying as you cross the sky.
Because your heart is good, after all.
There’s always too much on the line, isn’t it?
Too much on the line.
They all need you.
Golden gates swung open,
With a crown of poppies in my hair.
And I am all you never knew you wanted.
I’ll not make demands.
Come, sit and breathe deeply on
the tranquil shores of a pacifist girl
gentle and verdant.
Drink my wine, and your soul will sing.
I promise that I won’t take advantage of you.
How could I? You are far above,
and I am not made to touch the sky.
As you slowly set below the horizon,
pulling down the edge of blue
with blazing colors that look
like my heart on fire,
my farewell will be a final kiss,
a gift to the one who gives
even in the brilliant heat of desire.