Little Miss Homo Sapien's Cave

In Our Own World

In our own world,
you are mine and
I am yours, and
everywhere we walk
flowers blossom,
birds sing us songs and
painters draw us
without clothes.

In our own world,
we make love all
night long; under
the glow of the gentle
but shivering dawn–
by a bonfire, next
to the gushing shore.

In our own world,
gods and goddesses
let us sit in their
thrones; we roam
the Earth by riding
unicorns; we are
the roses among
the thorns.

In our own world,
you are the light, and
I am the night that
vanishes into you;
you are the day that is
each and every day, and
I am the evening, from
whom you bring out
the blue moon.

In our own world,
we are the bull’s eye to
Cupid’s arrow; we are
eternal lovers serving
Eros; we, who at times
get dizzy for too much
staring at each other.

In our own world,
I am the ship
in danger; and you are
my lighthouse tower;
and when I wander,
you are my anchor
down the ocean floor.

In our own world,
you are my magnetic
north, and I am the compass
in search of your direction;
you are the glazier
to the window of soul,
and I am the glacier
just below your alpenglow.

In our own world,
we are the pot at the
end of the rainbow;
we are an orchard
of forbidden apples;
we are the vanguard
of a free nation.

But we live now in a world
that is not ours, that won’t
leave us alone, on our own:
what’s right to us to them
it’s wrong; to fight for
each other is to suffer
excommunication; to explain
our side our souls they’ll burn.
But we say, Bring it on:
For to die for this love is to
only begin its Ever After.

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7 responses

  1. In our own world
    Nothing else but you and me.

    13/02/2011 at 11:26

    • Where’s that world of ours… ๐Ÿ™‚

      13/02/2011 at 18:14

      • In our own world
        In our own world
        In our own world

        (Repeat stanza until fade)

        14/02/2011 at 21:12

  2. I loved it all the way.

    14/02/2011 at 06:12

  3. I read this when you posted it, and I didn’t comment because instead of words it left questions floating around in my head. Romantic love and I have sort of gone separate ways over the past few years. But now I think, love, any sort of love, is like this. When I take pictures, I am in my own world, and I forget about everything else.
    Now, I have even more questions. I’ll keep thinking about this. By the way, I love the images.

    14/02/2011 at 16:18

    • I always aim for my poems to have double meanings and symbolisms in them. This particular one doesn’t have to be literally about romantic love only. It could also be a kind of love towards a passion that everybody seems to not understand.

      Carry on with your photography; you’ll eventually find your true, picture-perfect love. ๐Ÿ˜‰

      14/02/2011 at 20:59

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