Under the Southern Cross
This was a gift.
A priceless gift, given to me by a very special person.
So special that I’m not capable of verbalising it because they go deeper inside me than anything or anyone ever has with their words.
This person has always had a way that looks deep inside and sees things like noone else.
They reach inside and touch my soul like noone before or since.
Until the day I die, this is something noone else will ever have, because it’s mine, and I cherish it more than I can ever say.
But they know, and that’s what counts.
I was going to keep this to myself , then thought better of it.
Words as beautiful as these should be seen, and looked upon in awe, for they are truly beautiful, as is the sentiment behind it.
I can never thank you enough for your gift from the heart. Every time I read it tears flow.
Unfettered….
Under the Southern Cross
Somewhere under the Southern Cross lies an angel
her wings tattered and torn, her heart filled with blue truths
bluer than the azure waters she lies on
quiet and unnoticed,
like a prayer…
Somewhere under the Southern Cross lies hope, waiting
nurtured by the silent stars of some distant & frozen magenta dawn
And she cries, for the things that were meant to be;
small but insignificant things, echoes of the heart within her
And she sleeps, like a child…
Somewhere under the Queensland moon lies an angel,
fast asleep, nighttime grace
And she dreams, while a million stars dance in the Cross high above,
healing her tattered wings, soothing her tired soul,
making her spirit whole – like a long-forgotten lullabye…
