When the wind unveils her pride I will not know.............
Give me warmth in a close and quiet port with a song unwritten So when the wind unveils her pride I will not know I will dive headfirst into uncharted waters Write the words to the song With my harp of gold
Send me a reason to leave my warm and quiet port with you So when the wind unveils her pride I will stay warm We will dive headfirst into uncharted waters With a new song unwritten In both our arms
Promise me I will not long for the song unwritten I wrote alone When I leave my warm and quiet port to write for you Then I will dive headfirst into uncharted waters Write the words to a new unwritten song You can sing too
Our song will hold a thousand nights of memories of bliss To keep us warm when the wind unveils her pride We will sing each word together in harmony While we dive headfirst into waters With our warmth inside
There is a part of the writer's heart that no lover will ever know, ever appreciate, ever share--often, even if that lover is also a writer.
And what of the lover's life, how much will a writer really be able to truly involve him or her self in that? We want our mates to value and be part of what we do, but what we do is frequently all-consuming. Even if we manage every sincere intention to be wholeheartedly devoted to another, ultimately, there is only one lover whom we always desire and to whose arms we inevitably run--it is that constant communication with our own souls; endeavoring to clearer and clearer express what we have inside.
Sorry, Neva, but the sweet longing inherent in your thought-provoking poem brought these words to my mind.
Love the poem.
This truly stunned me, like I paused for a moment in silence to savor
every words after the first read then after the second read it was like
I was in a suspense disbelief.
There is a part of the writer's heart that no lover will ever know, ever appreciate, ever share--often, even if that lover is also a writer.
And what of the lover's life, how much will a writer really be able to truly involve him or her self in that? We want our mates to value and be part of what we do, but what we do is frequently all-consuming. Even if we manage every sincere intention to be wholeheartedly devoted to another, ultimately, there is only one lover whom we always desire and to whose arms we inevitably run--it is that constant communication with our own souls; endeavoring to clearer and clearer express what we have inside.
Sorry, Neva, but the sweet longing inherent in your thought-provoking poem brought these words to my mind.
Love the poem.
I like these words.."Promise me I will not long for the song unwritten I wrote alone
When I leave my warm and quiet port to write for you"--well said about concern in revealing emotions and putting into words.. I like a lot!
So does love goes, one must close their eyes and jump headfirst into it, with full committment and without the knowledge of the future if it will work out. Takes trust in oneself and in the unknown to be so brave. This is romantic to me, loved it.
Hello, I am Neva, 4i, from Atlanta, Georgia.
My latest book and videos:
My latest book - Mailing Letters to the Moon
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