THE LUCENT RISETHE TRAILOKYA TRILOGY, BOOK THREEK. WILLIAMS
"Let the future tell the truth, and evaluate each one according to his work and accomplishments. The present is theirs; the future, for which I have really worked, is mine" – Nikola Tesla
"At his lips' touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnationwas complete." – F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
VISIONS AND RELATIVE MOMENTS
I held a small girl close in my arms,
great sapphire eyes looked back at me,
glossed with pools of thick lurid fears.
Firebrand tresses both curled and mussed,
by tales of woe from tales of love.
Laughingly, I explain to my nervous kin,
the child walks in strange lucid dreams.
Her beloved vehicle remains unscathed,
by a fight with undetected imps and sprites,
and a frantic desire to escape a dark cage.
I chuckle at sincerity‐born concerns,
and look in the eyes of the little one.
My daughter, I know the toddler has to be,
by the way to one another we cling.
Yet, how do I explain who you are to me?
Doors make so many hollow sounds,
Guardians turn off the switches thrown,
and those undone in my child's effort to flee.
Thick tears strike gazes blind to aching truth,
While azure skies embody hope despite danger.
I squeeze my child tight once more,
my small maternal pledge of safety.
Her demons have returned to their cages.
Though she rests safe with me, I see
his tormented features burnt on her memory.
Now the mother falls blind and helpless,
not the sovereign child who has grown bold.
Despite the presence of many before her,
Movements feel awkward, clumsy, and weak.
Matriarchs stare with mute perception.
The crimson crown repositions on loving arm,
reminding the heart of mysterious futures.
I glance pensively in the eyes of this child,
who has a father absent from this vision.
The veil drops while I wake to dawn alone.
The sunny morning is the same,
as in the moments of seconds before,
I gather my groggy thoughts, wondering
Where is my unborn's devoted father?
Alone, I recline arms vacant of both.
Still, as I wade through my early morning,
the eyes of sapphire drown in tears,
tormented my mind with biting desires.
Eyes, hair, and porcelain skin like mine,
A gentle smile concedes remaining time.
YOU ARE READING
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