I would be content to be a constant star, or better still, a constellation shining brightly in your nighttime from afar; a trusted guide, an inspiration.
Inner motivation pushed me from my place and sent me hurtling through the skies, chancing an encounter with your whirling grace and the shining smiling of your eyes.
Now not driven, only being drawn to you by planetary force - not gravity, but stronger still - the sight of someone being true, the steady pull of honesty.
Plunging, reckless, through your atmosphere of care, drinking in your warmth until I glow and burst - a billion blooming wishes everywhere - too briefly, brightly burning as I go.
I have been condemned to be a shooting star, one who deals in days and not forevers. Time too short to catch enough of who you are to last throughout a thousand nevers.
Shakespearean love on a cosmic scale!
And so, the question arises, to ask of strict materialists: What mere "animal" could have made something like this poem--could have captured such majesty; would have wanted to; would have needed to? As you and your ilk search for man's essence in the make up of his gizzard, his soul paints pictures, sings songs and fashions wonders all about you! Poor fools; poor blind and deaf fools!.
Raise your hand in victory, Joel--you just kicked Darwin's a*s.
Sweet poetry! The most beautiful of arts! You who instilling in us the creative power puts us closer to divinity. Love is breathing in every line. The description is undoubtedly artistic. beautifully-written.
This was beautiful...I see you spelled the name the way I spell mine, My grand dad always put ie instead of a "y",..Thank you too for your well wishes, I have coughed so much I think I will sound hoarse forever..God bless..Kathie
Wow, Joel. I read this through several times and loved it more each time. It is so beautiful ... a trite word in comparison, but nontheless. I absolutely love this. I have a few very minor suggestions for the sake of rhythm, which I will send you in a message to save space below. This is my absolute favorite thing I have read of yours. And I want to read it 100 more times!
Shakespearean love on a cosmic scale!
And so, the question arises, to ask of strict materialists: What mere "animal" could have made something like this poem--could have captured such majesty; would have wanted to; would have needed to? As you and your ilk search for man's essence in the make up of his gizzard, his soul paints pictures, sings songs and fashions wonders all about you! Poor fools; poor blind and deaf fools!.
Raise your hand in victory, Joel--you just kicked Darwin's a*s.