Unbroken Waves of La Luna (Desire Suite)

Unbroken Waves of La Luna has been published in All of Me Vol. V, courtesy of Shadow Spark Publishing. Featured art is by Ashley Cook.

Listen to Unbroken Waves of La Luna by Richard Charles Stevens (Desire Suite)

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To be seen,
To be seen,
To be finally seen

There she awaited—
far and away from the day to day debris of stresses undulatory
Some place she remembered from a dream;
a page unwritten less that be when she be touched by sleep
the castle keep of fathom deep;
wherein no woes resided
no sense misspent of discontent;
no feeling unrequited
some place where the toils of life were strictly uninvited
some place where her voice relied on vision to transcribe this

There she awaited—
With wild eyes at their widest
delighting a breathtaking scene;
bedecked in the diamonds of skies on the rise in a high tide of aquamarine
horizons were some way from bleak;
and, indeed,
the sun burned ever brightly as it turned the other cheek
meanwhile, the moon dressed in silver flecked tunic addressed of elusive mystique
conducive with lunar themed dream
conducive with lunar themed dream

To be seen,
To be seen,
To be finally seen

There she awaited—
Refusing to speak;
for the words upon her tongue were spun of blooming romantique
something unspoken for aeons in sweep;
to talk of such alone would have felt cheap
Thus, she patiently bided her time in reliance of faith that equated the science of sleep
as treasured reminders;
the groundwaters seeped
enriching the harvest beneath her bare feet
floorboards creaked to break sweetly the silence;
persuading the maiden to peeking behind her

To be seen,
To be seen,
To be finally seen

There she awaited—
a fate some way kinder;
than the destiny detestably denied her as a child
the one that flashed before her eyes for every single time she smiled
the one that flashed before her eyes for every single time she smiled
running wild and free
had always been her favoured theme
Alas, for all impassioned pleas;
the barren trees caressed no breeze
blackened leaves dormant as she fashioned streams of tears
long captured in the sediment of very many years
very many years
very many years
long captured in the sediment of very many years

There she awaited—
one kiss bled of truth;
the heady most berries of reddest vermouth
the ferry of calm midst an ocean of balm;
devotedly charmed to her cause
pausing to marvel remarkable view;
the maiden felt swayed by the daisies in ever harmonious partnering bloom
ever harmonious partnering bloom

her heart was a masterpiece;
such blushed her steepened arteries
the colour of her lips attested
shade of vision double-breasted
blessèd the provisions of a love bereft of ending
the destined friend she never left behind

There she awaited—
Orchestrating space and time;
Invigorating braid of twine
as here, the wake of dreams combined
here, the wake of dreams combined
here, the wake of dreams combined

The palace of her mind
had pandered not to redesign
For every detail dressed reflection;
unimpressed of misdirection
the crest of a wave blest of effortless brave;
every dreamscape foreseen in its reconvening wake

There she awaited—
This one wave unbroken;
A daisy chain famed
reclaimed of aeons unspoken
Her soul was ablaze
and her heart cage wide open;
The wings of a butterfly
Freed from their chains
Freed from their chains
Freed from their chains
To be seen through the very same eyes was a prize that delighted the coulis of luminate veins
delighted the coulis of luminate veins
delighted the coulis of luminate veins

To be seen,
To be seen,
To be finally seen
To feel finally free and reliantly breathe in the kindliest breeze;
That of sprightliness and ease

To be seen,
To be seen,
To be finally seen
To be seen,
To be seen,
To be finally seen

In the treetop, she perched
Amidst rise of the leaves
The herald of winter twirled fervently keen
Beneath her bare feet
As she further relieved every teardrop released from her nurturing keep
and, indeed,
she was forevermore seen

There, she awaited
No more
For the maiden now felt ceaselessly adored.

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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© Copyright: Rivers of Grue™ Shadow Spark Publishing™

1 Comment

  1. “…running wild and free
    had always been her favoured theme” 🥰

    Felt such beautiful inner elation reading this (I’m on the bus) and suddenly the sun is shining brighter.

    The people need to be more aware of your work, you’ve got the biggest body of work ever created!

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