held in hand, but gently so
i free my loves to come & go
loved deep enough to want to stay
without some grip, they'd need betray
for passion here is better sired
when depth of want is born inspired
in open palm my seed is sown
to love a heart i need not own
so come now nestle in this palm
and find this freedom's soothing balm
to see my all, remaining free
and come to love the all of me...
~moses apollo
Stepping into the precipice of time, immersed in the thought of all that is deemed "special" and "beautiful" to him... awash in recollection...
That sun that greeted him with warm kisses by day and that moon struck mist caught framing beautys silhouette against the backdrop of trees outside his window by night. That subtle breeze that came and went... brushing up against the flowers in the ever fields... allowing them to dance and sway. All doing so... inspiring verse.
Oh the temporal in the hour, the minute and the second... wanting him to make them immortal. Desiring him to see them (through a prism of artistic passion) worthy to be called... "muse". What made them so special? What made them so fine? Beyond their beauty, they knew he understood their language. Their cry to be seen. Their desire to be touched and wanted by passion. They shone for him by day. Drew outlines of beauty for him by night and danced and swayed for him in the ever fields. These... all wanting to be seen and whispered into immortality by his love, tethered their hearts to his own. For although they were temporal... he saw them through forever eyes. Eyes very few now have. Eyes...
And where now... is he to find the next? Who will shine against all fear? Who will allow their beautiful silhouette to be drawn out by the moon and who... will dance and sway like there is naught but a breeze on their cheek guiding them into passion? Whose skin will muse his own? Whose heart will seek to tether to his own? Who now... will inspire verse?
Come sing for him, dance for him and show him your heart is a gifted canvas ready for expression. Speak to him and inspire him with your skin, your taste and touch... tell him what you want of his heart so that without fear or expectation... he may fall to verse and love again...
For though all have come to ground... losing the ability to believe in forever. He has not... nor will he ever.
~moses apollo
