In what appeared to be
Her last hour
Simple abdication:
"Let he who is without sin cast the first stone"
From the one man
Whom they all followed
What secret resentments must have ensued
The indignation that had to simmer
Because the favored one favored her
But never enough
To put an end to questions burning
Through time's corridors
Did he think simply by revealing himself first
In her eyes
It would be enough?
The Love of My Life
He understands I only ever wanted one thing.
July 12th
My mother spoke of the origin of my name: "The first ray of the sun's light." And a lifelong chase ensued; always the subtle glow in the distance. . . warmth of a Vermeer hearth, painted in tender brushstrokes, whispering promises of a future when all will be drenched in a lightness of being Milan Kundera knows all too well. Said simply, in the right light, at the right time, everything will be extraordinary. -Anisha
Cancer Moon Child
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