End Is There To Break My Wings
Night is a day but is dark,
and is more beautiful, and elegant,
with sparkling crystals in the skies,
and of floating, bright golden dusts.
Far away above, a falling one,
there and there, then fading nowhere
to find, impossible as with us.
It took more time counting more sheep
than telling the wolf, dying a bit.
It already ended, I can't even extend it.
Squeezing my hardened living heart
into belief that it'll be broken like a vase.
Fragile yet so hard to take care of
and to put into stop, so hard to face.
If we'll ever meet again in a bench,
rusty and almost century of the edge.
I'll sit beside you and will hold your hand,
whilst knowing nothing that I'm years dead.
Be not afraid of me,
though your heart melts as I can see.
Don't vanish and leave your seat.
I'm not yet done but if you are so,
my heart will feel, then you are free.
Wait and make haste of nothing,
for nothing will really happen.
If you will dream tonight, dream of me.
Little stars might not so bright,
and fireflies might go for date.
Wind might change its bitter course,
and the ocean might be so late.
You won't be separated as I hope,
as you hold your only faith.
I know your voice, your sweetest noise.
No, not like the sounds of bees
but of the mother bird, singing
to her little children, so sweet,
so mild that I can even fall asleep.
Another night has taken our time.
Tell me then so, so that I know
when should I go, but furthermore.
If tears went by out of your eyes,
if bees went by out of your mouth,
for the reason that I left you so,
early as you didn't expect, no.
Bring out all of them as you can,
for nothing will cure you
but your crystal tears and shouts.
Cry as you'll never stop,
beat the door until you drop!
Shout as loud as the thunders,
roar as brave as the lion!
End is there to break my wings
and cut off the feather I only bring.
You brought anything in your tears,
and took out all by your courage.
Be it! End is nigh, so as tonight.
In the skies, cloud's so dimmed,
the golden dusts shall be my guide.
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Comments about this poem (End Is There To Break My Wings by Louis Jannero )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
Robert William Service
(16 January 1874 - 11 September 1958)
(22 March 1941 -)
(28 May 1779 – 25 February 1852)
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