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to this very day...
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Hyacinth garden Watching over the unknown is a darker side within the midnight moon.
Asking if a man has potency within his tears.
Alone in his bed as stars shoot across the nether sky.
He goes on uninterrupted within his fears.
Tears start falling silently all too soon.
Already it is too late no one comes to hear him cry.
His isolation, and his virility are consumed with shame.
He clears his throat and seeks lilliputian strength.
Too many nights he, lives his life the same.
Loneliness larger then the moon as a whole.
Tears for all in the world, they stay at arms’ length.
Waiting for someone to wake up his soul.
Bastioned in his sanctuary he cries silently, so the moon can decide.
Cloistered in a search for beauty that resides within his heart.
His aches are deeper then the moon’s sorrows or his hearts divide.
He does not need to be an actor in this part.
Every tear down his cheek falls with nothing soft, no matter where it lands.
Never to shedding a tear, he cries the night away.
His voice cries to the moons darker side, and there below on earth where man commands.
It is bequeathed to be this way and it seems that men remain the same to this very day...
Oh to take the chance and to be a mere human.Fully and completely, and bare ones self in openess.This is truely a piece that speaks of the hurt and shame of allowing to let oneself express and feel human.I felt a great sadness for what is when I read this,thank you for once again opening my eyes to what is.