To hold steadfast
His bed, her head, tumultuous.
Subtle yet seeps, unknown in present eye
The affects that wreck, slowly tearing the heart.
Her conscience bewitched? or just beguiled?...
As an opal changes colour, slowly, almost unnoticed,
So too were her minds musings raveled up in impulses,
Yielding to a counter eye, desire and strive.
To be present, to notice, to act from root of truth-
But a youthful quest with a feeble prospect?...
Cyclical, swaying, nostalgic memory reverberates.
Guilt, frustration, saddened weary recollections.
Is one powerless to hold steadfast the things of
Treasure we hold dear? or just subject to revolve from
Self assurance in lack, needing others to cast clear?...
Still, she arrives a full circle with some clarity and comprehension,
Stronger in what was once longed for.
For through the shade and places of haze
The treasure appears more real with value renewed.
Written by Natasha Hubert 2012