are no longer a vision.
Or a poem.

There was a day,
and many a night,
of wonder,
of hope,
of waiting,
and perhaps
of expecting,...
and, I have often felt,
..'what daring'..
have I,
to stand and think,
much less,... even more,
write a poem,
of hope,
prayer like,
that one day this will
all come to happen,
amid all the daily
and rotten repercussions
of doubt and belief,
some mine,
most by others,
somehow, in some way,
I would one day
stand up
across your path,
and blatantly
tell you, that,
I loved you.

And you might say,
do you know me?

And I'll say,
what is there to know,
that can't be proved
by your being,
standing here,

I had to grow,
you had to see,
I had to learn,
you had to be,
and now,
as the end of the past
ever so softly,
I can finally
see your eyes,
and feel
what can't possibly
be felt by many,
but the lucky few,
chosen ones,
are no longer a vision.
Or even a poem.

And from my dream
of our climb
along the many splendour'd
shaft of light
shall the truth of truths
forever be born,
that no one can ever
cast a side glance of doubt
over the power of hope,
or of love,
and of care,
(yes, I have cared,.)
and of trust,
Oh yes, trust,
that indomitable faith,
which can make
or break all of us
into worthless, unhappy beings
whose desires are
masters of oblivion,
and reality is but
a shadow of what
it all could
and should,
forever be.

Sure it was hard.

And, it was painful.
But worth it.
For in one second,
all that ever was,
only but a vision,
perhaps a hope or two,
and a wondrous sight,
is now,
so true,
so clear,
so perfect,
and so inspiring,
that I'm not sure
that there even exist
in this unfathomable idea
of eternal time and space,
enough ink and lead
to describe you,
enough notes, scales and instruments
to surround you,
enough paints and canvases
to delineate you,
which will truly describe
the feelings
not even a second long
of a vision within a vision
which is,
an incarnate truth,
a specialized moment,
of unbearable joys,
when all time stands still,

and shines,...
oh yes, it shines,...
ever so brightly,...
when it finally can be said,
once and for all,
You ( my dear)
Are no longer a vision.
Or, even, a poem.




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