I met you in between the pages of Italian philosophers,
Where the air hung low with moisture.
Plum hues, wine-stained lips, and irises rich with coffee surrounded leather-bound biographies of coffin-bound Europeans.
Numb appendages hung over the stories told and retold by philosophers repeating the ideas of others,
A warmth was exchanged in rooms with French artists, Venetian glass, and scarlet nails.
While the moon pathetically reflected the light of the sun in the obscure darkness,
We dwelled where God allowed us to glow with our craters and canyons,
A fragment in the reflection of greatness, depending on the angle the looking glass allowed.
In a night where beauty met intellect in all its aesthetic glory,
Tranquility followed two nomads into conversations with the past.
YOU ARE READING
An Ode to Muses to Polyhymnia
PoetryThis poetry collection explores loneliness, theology, Biblical characters, depression, heartbreak, and disappointment. It's a good read for someone going through a bad time, but surprisingly hopeful.
