Far from earshot,
clashing ideals
consume minds.

Unsure, we stare out, wondering when our time will come.

An angel arrives,
on a pedestal called stage,
Sending something new.

From the house, our waiting arms impatiently reaching. 

Her silver wings spreading,
Illuminating the night
in that dark park.

Bright white, blinding rays of beauty encompass us.
We didn’t know we were special enough to deserve this.

“Step outside,
even though
Your eyes
are blinded.”

Breaking free from the binds,
Stepping off the station,
We’re catching a moving train.
Watching as we fade away-

A goddess.

See through
silk veil,
skin tight
mesh leggings,

Don’t look too long,
she’ll guide your dreams,

Don’t get lost in logs,
the memory of schemes,

Do you see shape and curve?
A metaphor for something.

Doing does us well,
it’s shame that
never serves.

We met her,
Our Anima.

We made her in our minds
a many mangled mirror.
Might we mend?

her eyes become human,
her legs start wearing pants,
Turtleneck and scarf it’s not cold out but the whistling.

Our cat calls got to be too much,
we pushed and shoved to make a move.
Love was the name of our movie.

Now we see her as she is.

the moon, in it’s beauty,
catches light not to
make our nights brighter.

the moon is a mirror,
the moon is a rock,
the moon moves the tides.

Part Three: Click Here