Did you exchange my poles?
Always a lonely star crossing others,
Though surrounded by the same celestial bodies,
A lonesome light travelling the vacuum,
Driven by nothing but distant goals.
(You might have exchanged my poles.)
But everything is moved by mysterious forces,
Some obscure, some unavoidable,
As even our universe is always moving,
Forced to collide eventually with one of its own.
(I really think you exchanged my poles.)
The diverged light suddenly redirected,
Turned around and forced to give in,
Premature anti-gravitation losing all of its meaning,
No previous dust of doubts still part of my being.
(You exchanged my poles.)
The first crossing of the light-rays,
Blinded by the nearing perfection,
Drawn to the endless ways,
Our beams offering everlasting connection,
My gravity now entirely fused with all of your stones.
So, I inquire humbly,
Do not let my next rotation start sorrowfully,
Questioning,
Why did you have to exchange my poles?
Roaring water is approaching them fast;
Relentlessly rushing through their running veins;
Rapidly rising, the deadly flood, source of all their pains;
The ruthless cold pressuring the rose to wither and join the past.
She may be the only bud to resist and bloom,
Some other flowers appear to take on a levitating bent,
Surprised their last summer had already been spent,
Sorrowful greed never saving them from the solitude of their tomb.
But why should they care?
In a world where physicism possesses the utmost power;
A single plant's plan's support is assured to remain rare;
The singular flower’s withering never bothering others for many an hour.
As they remain forced to try and sprout;
While the panjandrums create other live's shadows,
Rudely ignoring the penetrating shouts;
Disguising and masking themselves with the everlasting glittery bows,
Ruining even the last one of their utopian thoughts.
Sprouting faster than the forest's moss,
Tulips drawing eyes from every stone,
We were the same to the very last bone,
We were the ocean and everything across.
But now we are the Sun and Moon,
Comets that will never align again,
The stars did not predict this early noon,
The bifurcation pulling on us with its chain.
Yet, moonlight emerges from the sun's rays,
A divine connection always finds its own ways,
So no matter how it will take place,
Ensuing light recreated in its very own pace.
Until then I am with Aeolus,
A present spirit, no matter how echoless,
The dove put into Emily's dress,
A tributary flowing towards nothing but us.
I am in every atom surrounding you,
Every elation and sorrow, every pain we knew,
And until Clotho reunites perfect harmony,
I am in every single space separating us,
Sitting and waiting with my apology.