Guardian

Muscles of Antartic shiver,

filled to the brim with Moroccan air.

Hostility, in the eyes of the beholder,

the same which encompass love,

or is it nothing more than a fisher

and his line?

Now it's a boiling kettle,

eyes fixed, finger hugging the trigger.

There must be self salvation.

There must be a way to dance in the street,

with nothing but an umbrella

and the energy of my inner child.

Self conscious ways

lead to an unconscious heart.

It's time to take a risk,

otherwise time will only take you.

Listen close, my dear.

I am the power inside of you,

the voice that calms your gun motored heart,

calms your worried eyes into pretentious sleep.

I have seen the ways you have struggled,

as if you were a player, who didn't know the game.

I saw you when life was nothing but a string,

with scissors held close. I've seen the stranger

about to snip the line.

I'm glad you heard me.

You may not know my reasons,

why I accompany such a splintered soul,

but it is because you have not yet acknowledged,

the presence of the pieces, the ability to be

better than you ever imagined.

I am in love with your fragile soul.

Beneath it all, I see the heart

far bigger than most have.

I feel the pain, launching tears

forward like a worried rain,

yet I want to hold the sun

and dry them.

Darling, you may feel so alone,

but you have never been so surrounded

by all of those saints you cannot see.