Into this world, before our time, There came the perfect youth, His beauty captured all the gods' With it's pure aesthetic truth. The world was still a woman, All nature her command, And all things born were joyful, Under her gentle hand. On to our earth this youth came, For he had truly heard, The only rival to him, Was the beauty of the world. He sees himself reflected, In every natural place, Each thing of beauty touches him, In each he sees his face. The world is lightly dancing, Among the nature she creates, And doesn't know that mortal love, Is held within the fates. Their paths are bound to intertwine, And destiny takes it's care, To conspire their first meeting, Among the roses there. She sees him, and her breath is stopped, His beauty and his grace, His perfect form, and ivory skin, The glory of his face. His youth is there, for all to see, His lips a rosy hue, His lustrous hair, as dark as night, His life, so fine and new. She watches him, her heart is full, of every movement made, The world, therefore, had felt true love, And for this she dearly paid. From tree to tree, she hid from him, Each time that he would move, From pond, to lake and puddle, His reflection to improve. Until he came at last upon, A lake so calm and clear, He lay there looking in to it, And watched what he held dear. Approaching, softly, silently, She made her presence known, And with her love and tenderness, The flowers had all grown. The trees were all resplendant, With leaves all glossy, green, The hills against the sky were set, With rivers in between. The world leaned out to touch him, Her fingers rested on his face, And there among the roses, Declared her love within that place. The youth did not respond in kind, His countenance conceited, Demands he made, for proof of love, And tasks to be completed. For all my youth and beauty, I wish to see a prize, For every word of love I give, Something in nature dies. Until all is gone, but you and I, And all alone we'll be, Then I'll be yours, when my own grace, Is the only thing you'll see. The world was so immersed in him, That she agreed to all he asked, And with desire born from love, She set about her tasks. For every time he deigned to gaze, Just once, into her eyes, Her pledge to nature is forgot, And something lovely dies. So one by one, the animals, And then the flowers pass, The rivers dry, the rains all cease, And all is gone at last. And still the youth demands reward, For the beauty that he lives, The world believes that love is near, And her heart is what she gives. And with this gift, the last she owns, Her seeds of pain are sown, The youth can see, without her heart, How old the world has grown. No longer shall she touch him, The youth declares at last, Her ugliness deters him, His need of her is past. My reflection, I no longer seek, Within you, as you are aged, Without your looks, you'll not appeal, My image can't be saved. You cannot be my mirror, When you are barren, grey and torn, And all around you, desolation, From you, nothing is born. You know that youth must call to youth, I cannot stop to care, I must search for something young and new, To hold my image there. He left for other places, For some other shallow chance, He left without compunction, And without a backwards glance. And all the autumn leaves, Left from the passing of the rain, Had turned to dust within her hands, And joined the earth from which they came. The world was left with nothing, From the very earth was torn, All things that had been living, And the world began to mourn. And every tear the world did cry, Brought on by wrenching pain, Fell to the ground beneath her, To propogate the earth again. Everywhere a teardrop fell, Something natural came to life, And all the creatures, large and small, Were born again from strife. For every sob, a flower, For every tear, a tree, Until a fairy bower, Was all the world could see. The creatures of the forest, The flowers of the plain, All turned towards the mournful world, And brought her joy again. And for the youth, the world had loved, It's said he wanders still, Still looking for his mirror, Just as he always will...
Reason for writing:
This just poured out of my head a couple of weekends ago...What do you think?
Birth sign: Aries
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by zara.