Maiden

Articles

Maiden

By Mechele Cassells
Feb. 5, 2005

So this is real and what it feels like to be alive. As I prepare to jump into this valley of imperfection. Your not flawed like I am. How could it be that I’m still welcome. There is space for the insignificant. To take up residence in a place where all I feel I do is take up room and collect dust. I’m nothing clean. I’m nothing worthy. I’m nothing pretty. Yet I’ve taken up beauty, I’ve won a prize and I don’t even have to sing a song. I’m nothing but the ground beneath your feet, and yet I’ve taken up grace and moved an entire hill. I’m nothing short of disaster and yet I’ve taken up merit and danced sweetly with my king.

Love

I like the way it sounds…. yet I am somehow confused by it. How can it smell like love. It looks like love. The Willow Tree is not even weeping. The duck is laughing and carrying on. Even the willow is happy. How does the smell of love smell, and where is it hiding? Is love hiding in the reeds at the edge of the water? I hear something moving. Oh, It's just a lonely bird who's not looking for love. Maybe he's hungry. Maybe he's lost his way.

Slipping and tripping on leaves in the fall my attraction, your beauty this time to recall. An exception. And you desire all my attention. An extension of you. I’m the branch of your tree,ingrafted adopted,this thing you call me. Art is the intricate mixed with the fine. Exhibiting the field yet does not expire. Your love like a color, I see in the sky on a night where the sun has not gone.

This is not a reflection. This is. Don’t check pigment, because this is not a figment this is not a shadow, this is. Could you be? Are you the stars in my eyes the bright that lights my sky. It is. Love. And are you? Love. And would you love me? Should I be? Ever so swung under your branches. You wave your hands and wink, and turn your words as if to try to say something you already haven’t.

The explanation;
It’s the color of the rainbow
It’s the green grass grows.
It’s the reason your crying,
And letting it show.
It’s what’s underneath
It’s inside out.
It’s riding to the edge of the escalator and
letting your feet dangle off the edge.
It’s no wonder..
I love you.

------------

About the author: Mechele Cassells is 22. One day she will own her own radio station, write a couple books and get married. In the meantime she'll just play guitar, drink coffee, and eat dictionaries. That's the life!

http://profiles.myspace.com/users/16940497

Email: mecheolight@aol.com

Tell a friend about this site!

------------

All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com and are not allowed to be posted on other websites. ARTICLE THIEVES WILL BE PROSECUTED!