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The Rainbow

She is the prism that splits the light:
A blinding aura that drugs the id,
And makes kingdoms crumble.

She is the field of lotus.
As Ulysses rides to glory
I would gladly rot
In eternal intoxication!

She is the face of Medusa
That turns me into stone.

I swear!
I would kill to appease every whim,
Yet her name
I not yet known.

She is gone,
Not knowing my existence
From a tree,
While in 30 years
I sigh....
Thinking of rainbows.
Written by DreamSeed
Published
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