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like a lighthouseI have a tendency of being led on.
Led on by this distant light; it is faint, yet visible.
Like a light of small hope.
My heart would melt by its warmth,
the words spoken that place my thoughts firmly on this idea
that I would surely be loved.
So, I follow it, cautiously, while in the back of my head,
I hope that it leads me somewhere.
And then, the rain falls.
There is something in the way of that light,
blocking my vision, and I cannot see it, anymore.
What is the use of going on? I crash.
From below, I look up at the mighty light-bearer.
Its light is turning, around and around, so that it's
It is much bigger than I am, and I feel useless.
All that I do now is float silently on the ripples
of the icy cold water, emotionless,
yet in constant motion.
And after my crash, after that long path I followed,
I'm still swimming my way, towards it...
HomesickI am the river's son,
my arteries flowing turquoise
and turning to rapids
rushing around my frame,
filling me with this sense
of buoyancy, minnows
tickling my sternum.
I am the river's son.
My palms caress each
silty shoreline, every
battered bank and bend,
and these places I know
so well become me
as my fingerprint,
even the bridge above me
inflamed by the afternoon
sun-glow, burning rusty and
the steel blue sky.
I am the river's son;
I bring my home along
like hermit crab,
where I step
I pull water from the earth.
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More