I Can`t Let You In

Fiyero, don’t tell a soul what you’ve seen
This is the life that you and I are meant to lead
I can’t let you in, ’cause the world is falling to pieces
I can’t let you in, ’cause the world is falling to pieces
Fiyero, don’t tell a soul a word we speak
I need to know, if I don’t make it home, you won’t look for me
I can’t let you in, ’cause the world will tear us to pieces
I can’t let you in, ’cause the world will tear us to pieces
Don’t even let them hear you breathe
I’ll never see you again, ’cause the world has torn you to pieces
And don’t you dare deceive destiny
Her for you, but you for me
And don’t you dare deceive destiny
Her for you, but you for me
Her for you, but you for me
For me

~Hannah Fury~

Eternity

“He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy;
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity’s sun rise.”

~William Blake~

God put a smile upon your face

“…God gave you style and gave you grace

and put a smile upon your face…”

~Coldplay~

The Colossus

I shall never get you put together entirely,
Pieced, glued, and properly jointed.
Mule-bray, pig-grunt and bawdy cackles
Proceed from your great lips.
It’s worse than a barnyard.

Perhaps you consider yourself an oracle,
Mouthpiece of the dead, or of some god or other.
Thirty years now I have labored
To dredge the silt from your throat.
I am none the wiser.

Scaling little ladders with glue pots and pails of Lysol
I crawl like an ant in mourning
Over the weedy acres of your brow
To mend the immense skull-plates and clear
The bald, white tumuli of your eyes.

A blue sky out of the Oresteia
Arches above us. O father, all by yourself
You are pithy and historical as the Roman Forum.
I open my lunch on a hill of black cypress.
Your fluted bones and acanthine hair are littered

In their old anarchy to the horizon-line.
It would take more than a lightning-stroke
To create such a ruin.
Nights, I squat in the cornucopia
Of your left ear, out of the wind,

Counting the red stars and those of plum-color.
The sun rises under the pillar of your tongue.
My hours are married to shadow.
No longer do I listen for the scrape of a keel
On the blank stones of the landing.

~Sylvia Plath~

There is a Gentle Thought

There is a gentle thought that often springs
to life in me, because it speaks of you.
Its reasoning about love’s so sweet and true,
the heart is conquered, and accepts these things.
‘Who is this’ the mind enquires of the heart,
‘who comes here to seduce our intellect?
Is his power so great we must reject
every other intellectual art?
The heart replies ‘O, meditative mind
this is love’s messenger and newly sent
to bring me all Love’s words and desires.
His life, and all the strength that he can find,
from her sweet eyes are mercifully lent,
who feels compassion for our inner fires.

~Dante Alighieri~