Stormy night

 

Pale blue eyes 

 

like a quiet lake on a cloudy morning

 

opaque and impenetrable 

 

as it lacks depth. These eyes 

are unlike yours, 

 

who’s waters run as deep as the 

North Sea 

 

with its crashing white 

 

waves on a stormy night. 

Oh! How I’ve loved 

and I’ve lived. 

And lived and I’ve 

loved. You 

as a poet and writer, 

 

a creator of symphonies in word. 

 

Unlike very many others 

 

who have powerful words 

but weary eyes and hollow steps. 

 

Their homes are not where their poems live 

 

and their hearts are cold and steep,

 

their life a subversion of their real selves. 

Yours are in spring, the steps 

 

a rhythmic dance towards 

 

your core self 

 

unafraid as the lone warrior 

 

at daybreak on the battlefield. 

Your words, the sword

 

Your character, the armour. 

 

Waging the war on pessimism, 

 

inauthenticity and

too much comfort.

Your eyes the

 

persistent North Sea blue of 

 

Kattegat, on a stormy night 

 

pierced by flashes of white. 

Oh how I’ve loved 

and Ive lived in them 

a thousand times- each the lifespan of a supernova 

 

then I’ve died 

and been reborn again. 

 

 

 

-for MoltenIce