Time perspective
When my love was ripe,
you were the most beautiful of all,
a queen of charm and grace and beauty,
quite superior in your accomplishments,
a marvel of a sparkling jewel of perfection in your style,
and how you more than well lived up to it,
in brilliant clothes of some extraordinary fashion,
part in hippy style and part in celtic flower power,
always gorgeous and admirable in fantasy
with your long rich enchanting hair to crown it all
in something of a masterpiece of an ideal woman.
And how is it now, so many years long after?
Actually and in reality, there's nothing that has changed,
you have not aged, and I have not grown older
in our spiritual idealism and creative basis,
while the circumstances, although drastically turbulent
and changed by far beyond all recognition,
like a wonder prove the fact of our enduring love,
that we are still the same, your beauty is still there,
I never lost it, and you are the same
although in different circumstances,
and our love just keeps on going on
as if the world, the circumstantial changes
and all mundane trivialities and troubles,
alterations, shifts and trials
were but an accentuation of our love
and how like all the lights of stars throughout the universe
it simply cannot be put down and fade.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
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Written on 2018-11-13 at 16:29
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