The Romantic In Me

The romantic in me
Falls in love with beauty
A beauty so real
It remains unseen

Tis the beauty of a moment
Trees — nature’s monument
Grapes — that will ferment
Leaves — colour grey cement

Tis the beauty of people
Whose spark makes you feel
Whose presence makes you special
The beauty of family

Tis the beauty of sunsets
A harmonious duet
A beauty that pulls us away from regret
A beauty we shant forget

The romantic in me
Falls in love with beauty
A beauty so real
It’s experienced, not seen

 

MG

Time

To you,

I write this because I can articulate with my hands better than the occasional eloquence that springs from these lips of mine.

Alas, I shall get straight to what I want to say.

You.

You entered my life unexpectedly, into my (unbeknown to me) open doors. That spark, that chemistry, that depth felt in an instant.

I knew.

But I thought that perception was jaded and one-sided.

So time went by as the seconds passed, the globe spun circles around the sun, and the calendar slowly lost its weight as the pages gently dropped.

Time, that strange essence combining both everything and nothing, a unity of dissonance and resonance. Distance and resistance.

Time, a best friend and a worst enemy. ‘Tis time that mends, but also breaks. ‘Tis time that yearns, but also contains.

Time.

Much like snowflakes in the middle of summer, or the ray of sunshine on a cold winters’ day; a rarity, a phenomena.

Time was all that was needed. My love, haven’t you heard? Time is infinite… you have it yet you don’t… because, my love…time does not exist.

All that matter-ializes within time is reality, when dreams and reality meet, and all that was once mundane suddenly encompasses new sensations.

That, m’dear, that is the beauty of it all.

You.

MG