Sunday, 24 March 2019

Miscellanies 111

What attended the sweetness of my miserable circumstances was her beauty, the finest brightest golden flow of light the universe ever saw. She was not mine but in my heart she was. Although a fantasy and a dream yet very real, as real as my poverty.


She was an artless candour

She was an artless candour from an aristocratic lineage. Her arrogant imposition was an ascetic devotion for the many that devoted themselves to her elegance. She was astute, a genius beyond her time, who always had about her a balanced capacity about the vagueness that men held on life.

Her azure sky always fragranced with an impressive appeal, drawing in the simple and the ambiguous and smooth; a commonplace modesty maligned with a bad omen. She was in one sense a beatific vision, a long beauty befitting the beckoning horizon.


Her beauty shines

Her beauty shines, A monolith among the rest. I wish to forgo But when holiness fills my soul, I am drawn to her, The forbidden pasture...