Poetry is turning out to be a very cathartic medium, I should do this more often.
Set the Mood
She is surrounded by the fires of spite,
Laying lonely and cold in the dead of night.
Which side to choose, which side is right,
Which will hold her and hear her plight?
Calling to a God who lets her cry,
Watching each tear fall from her eye.
For she is of those prophesied to die,
An end never comes though preached to be nigh.
So she finds warmth in another’s embrace,
His arms, his hands, his chest, and his face.
Free from the scorn and a wonderful place,
Love and acceptance stain, leaving their trace.
Upon her heart his fingerprints stayed,
And in his presence her love was laid.
To one another they worshiped and prayed,
In the fields of love they eternally played.
They looked onward as the world burned,
Through the ages, clock hands turned.
Holding their love tight while aspirations churned,
Every scornful word served as a lesson learned.
They grew old in a godless world,
By the fuel of love their life twirled.
Girl for a boy and boy for a girl,
Laying upon sheets of passion unfurled.
No Social Commentary
I always feel the need to speak on my poems, as if the meaning I apply to it matters in any sense outside of my own perception. So this time, I offer no social commentary on it. Instead, I hope that anyone who reads it finds some comforting meaning; even if that meaning is completely contrary to my own interpretations of abstract reality.
Let your passions dictate your actions, and drive us ever-onward on this path of life!