Anima Poem by Archaeus Six

Although I cannot see your face,
Or speak the name to calm this storm,
By this desolate reflection, now,
You exist,
I know.

I have hated with the wrath of the ebullient suns,
My struggle, my war,
In perfect futility,
You awoke.

I release vanity with nothing in sight,
This heaven that surrounds me,
Feels as quiet as night.

I have held such riches dear,
Performed, on the humble stage of simplicity,
Only to hide the true motivation,
This hollow encore, this tragedy of self.

The greatest of acts.

Now and always,
This, is perfect.
So why, my heart,
With sorrow, defect?
In this space,
Never there is lack,
Yet all I wish,
Is to travel back.
To a world of memory,
A world of color,
To be a lover,
To dawn,
Through this timeless black.

My eyes now open,
With such desire to see,
Which resplendent face,
Carries, the forgotten me.

All else is but a beautified dream,
The voracity I am,
Will rest as solace,
In you.

Until that moment, in the dawning of peace,
I will walk the divide,
Resting,
On the strength of an unrelenting faith.

Unconditionally, I await,
In utter acceptance of the patient gift.
You will know the meaning of love,
When you reveal your name,

My most sought after,
My Anima.