Snow falls in great white blossoms to the sea,
budding slowly as they fall and disappear,
but they turn into stars –
shining in the daytime, as well in the night,
drenched in sunlight, becoming sunlight
in a strange green darkness of sea;
and I lay on an ocean of stars,
on beds of breathing waves,
looking up to something more and beautiful
and seeing paths of gold in the sky,
leading to home, leading to heaven
as the sun sets and dies.
A flower is stirred and a star is troubled,
and useless rage is tempered by patience,
by a great ring of pure and endless light
that blinds the darkness in my heart
and kills inside of me
what needs to be dead, what needs to die.
Eyes are closed and fingers brush the sky,
and a broken heart heals –
hope like an open, eternal flower.
A/N: The name of the poem maybe a bit terrible. I am sorry if it is. If you have suggestions for the name, please feel free to share if you wish to share. I hope you enjoy it.