Grace Of My Own

as i watch it crumble away with all the dreams that have come and faded,

my heart beats slowly,

distraught without end.

with such effectual working of our most complex ideas, fear destroys each flower and fruit that bare a greater sense of purpose.

heights unguessed by our own imperfections bathe gloriously bright in early morning light,

but breaks into a thousand whirling pieces before crashing into this bitter house.

solitude is never quite as miserable as the moon would have you believe,

there is something inside it that i miss.

the night comes soft, gentle, embracing each one of my greatest fables with such content as though it grieves with me,

protective, and welcomes me to live forever in her arms.

yet, while the world withers,

i am sure i will take back this grace,

divinely woven with its magic influence, obscurely spotted with blood fallen from pride and hope,

once upon another's dream

i fell apart.

it was only imaginary, temporary, and untrue.

-Xtian