You will one day find yourself
entrapped in a rope of syllables.
Each letter digging into your bones
claiming you as theirs.
You will someday fall into an endless sleep
listening to melodious phrases
too sweet for your taste.
Your body, paralyzed and lying
on a mattress of painted words ever-changing.
Your twists and turns will only wrap
my blankets of rhymes and rhythms closer
to your heart.
You are a victim,
a hypnotized accomplice of my poetic injustice,
a beauty cursed with my enchantment.
You are a tightrope walker weighing heart and mind as
you cross the line.
And if Fate was a sadist she will make you love me.
I will keep you in my menagerie of thoughts and dreams.
Keep still. Don’t move a muscle.
Like quicksand my art will pass you by unharmed.
Keep your heart intact at all times
as my syllables unwind.
Like a circus my musings will distract you for a day
and desert you by night.
This is how you leave…
This is how you escape my poetry…
If Fate was righteous.
I never thought I’d fall in love with a valkyrie.
For we ephemeral beings rarely love after death. Yet there I was proving the universe wrong. Before love there was life and death. We detest death because we think it malicious to end all. And like rose petals we take life’s beauty for granted. Most believe that love is somewhere in between, waiting, wanting to be found. If time caught up we throw our faith and give in to death. That is what I did. But there I was…
There was no gunshot. There was no car crash. No last words before a final exhale. Only life… death… and… I was swept and carried through the clouds. This majestic angel in flowing silk and feathered wings came unnoticed. A shadow I never thought was trailing me long ago. What is there after death? we ask. I would say this valkyrie who showed me the painted colors above the clouds. Who slipped happiness and contentment in my soul like a drug. This silhouette made of sun’s rays. Warmth and all. Who knew that death could hold so much beauty?
“Have you done this before?” I found the courage to inquire.
The angel only smiled. It was answer enough for a lifetime. Us mortals only lavish on a lifetime. Yet this creature who carefully flew me over the world lived a hundred. Nature would laugh at me if I dared not love this valkyrie. Who would love us after death? We only scratch the surface of the concept. Love in many ways is death. Death in many ways is life. Only fools would separate them. Meaningless is life without death and both are hollow without love. Philosophers would exhaust it. Poets would over analyze. Lovers would exploit it.
This valkyrie simply embodied it. And in that blink of an eye I told my angel, “I would love you until my next death.”
and we were gone… I never thought I’d fall in love with a valkyrie.