She wore a red dress today… Not to accentuate the scorching fire within, Or even sneer at every flaming ember. Ultimately the sunset hue was her fancy, Boundary of daylight. Motionless yet marvelling at its ambience, She firmly pondered, If such a borderline can be pieced, Near her wounded heart. Lodged in captivity, A taunting perimeter, Adorned in solid armour. Just a fiery crimson flatters the horizon, Where mere mortals gaze in pure fondness. Though in reality, A whimsical median, The story far from finished., Fate rests like bedecked poppies In a methodical maneuver, Waiting… Her intuition works overtime, Movement is imminent and inevitable. She wore a red dress today…
Intricate pathway of redirection.
With fastidious precision,
Navigating to your momentous destination.
In this candid declaration,
Heed this crucial assertion.
Delve into this submission.
In rigid locomotion,
Cast away all procrastination.
Assume the position,
Move forward in vast progression.
In this exact acceleration,
Amidst a brilliant scintillation,
Limpid is the horizon.
A maneuvered miscalculation,
One way maze extension,
Toward fate's intention.
(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.
There is peace awaiting purpose,
Calmness coursing through your stride.
A pensive and predestined journey,
Reflective expedition designated,
Originally for you.
Motivation takes over
You shudder to think of,
Arriving at the finish line.
Spasms churn your inner being,
Utopia seems so blurry and vague.
Do comprehend that,
You must relish this transitory median.
Dance like the nonchalant gypsy,
Numb to torrential rain.
Savour the jovial waves,
Crashing alongside your dampened feet.
Or bask in instantaneous glory,
Of witnessing the first star,
From the deepening twilight.
Hold on to your serenity.
May it grip you,
As the mighty talon of an eagle,
Whilst you are precisely woven,
Into the fabric of fate.
Monica St Hillaire, 2021