poetry9

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I don’t know what is so special about me,

That mystery that aroused your curiosity?

Woven on the loom of your heart by a dream,

A longing, a yearning, a smiles moonbeam?

Often the dream remains forever more,

Reality might be totally different though.

Searching for this mirror image of your soul,

Might never satisfy and taking it’s toll.

I only shared my feelings, my thoughts,

My yearnings, my longings with my written words.

They are the same in every human being,

That sweet longing for a smiles moonbeam.

That mystical enthrallment with ones own wish,

For this reflection of self in some one else’s image.

How could an other understand the real me,

Unless he finds it resting in him self, you see.

Will it materialize this moonbeam of a smile?

Or will it remain a dream ever so fragile?

Will reality as we see it, ruin this dream,

Will we ever see that longed for smile’s moonbeam?

How fickle our dreams and yet so true to self,

Love, moonbeams, roses - and all on behalf

Of meeting this other part, missing in our lives,

That will fill our emptiness, will grow and thrive.

That part that we wove on the loom of our dreams,

Long ago, yearning, longing for this smile’s moonbeam.

Will this flame within devour our own foolish hearts?

The foolishness of reality, will it keep us apart?

Ute

(8.21.01)

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