Beast of the Child
Standing on the edge the Meadow---
cliffs surge in majestic Surrounding
with a wisp of air, the Meadow…….
feels his flight as he is Rounding
thunderous in his Encounter
feels she the breath from the Beast
thereupon they Eye one Another
suspect of who feels the Least
she closes the Distance
with calm Deliberation….
a child that Knows
of the dragon’s Evolution
with outstretched Hands,
and the same hidden Fears,
near they’re Drawn,
senses she the dragon’s Tears
the people cry Nay
rising behind the Two,
good cannot Come of this
a dragon you must not Woo!
together they Circle
twirl round, round they Go,
closer… yet Still
paying heed to the people? No!
great Hesitation
they’re face to Face,
small tender Hands
caress the Giants grand breast
deep throated Rumbles
silent…. the two Unite
purple smoke it does Swirl
& a person in Sight
beauty you See
Is in the eye of the Beholder
the Beast that is there
is a genuine Protector
the child she Saw
the beast he did Counter
you see what was Missing
was one from the Other~~
©Viesta 1999
Within an Instant
sometimes an instant
lasts forever...
sometimes nothingness
poses as a moment...
in the most precious of moments,
amazing events occur...
sometimes an instant
lasts forever...
but time passes
and then nothingness
poses as a moment...
live your moments...
live in them...
fill them...
because sometimes an instant
may not last forever...
then time passes
and nothingness
poses as a moment...
©Viesta 1999
Reality Spoke
I fall to the ground in fragility
to lay there like a impotent child
And from the corner of my eye I see the
;outline of a one,
His frame standing among that
;of my once; hidden fears,
And the rains back away
as the pulsating winds slow
and I see him as he once saw me,
of angelic wings suspended to my frame,
soft as the night that enfolds about me, but
no more,
for the angel’s wings are blowing now,
the soft feathers speading about the ground
in a swirling pool, lacking in devotion, without the
compassion, each feather escaping the cyclone winds,one
by one, until the last feather finds the current that will
blow her in a; direction towards anew found reality
©Viesta 1999
