by Marc Lionhart11 Jul 2013
The moment a thousand suns made their journey to slumber, I took you back.
I kept the cosmos at a safe distance; I didn’t need help from the gods anymore.
You had a shield in one hand, and kept the other free.
You knew it was her, you even told me so.
It was her that made me look towards the ripples as I threw stones at the sea.
You knew it was her that turned ships around on their axis.
You knew how to craft an entire planet and cast it to space like a paper boat.
You had a tuning peg in your hair when I told you it was her.
Her that was a musical instrument, and a vessel of chaos.
She whistled while I held her hand steady
Briefly as it was, it was her that held on tighter
When silence was broken, the rest became fixed
Although fixing was a pointless act, when the broken had more meaning
It was her that was there when I wrote senselessly
Her that made my senses pointless
You rendered me obsolete
It was her that was there, when I told her it was you.