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01 June 2010 @ 04:49 pm
Happy birthday!  
Happy birthday to you julchen11 You are wonderful to have as a friend and what a poetry writer *squishes*


julchen11julchen11 on June 1st, 2010 10:52 pm (UTC)
Awwww, thank you so much, dear heart!
The card is sooo gorgeous and so are your lovingly words.

The pleasure to know you is all mine!

Love and extra tight hugs,
lijahlover: Cup of tealijahlover on June 2nd, 2010 09:32 pm (UTC)
*Love you lots*
White Rabbittlather2002 on June 2nd, 2010 02:33 am (UTC)
Huh ? I write Poetry


An open book lies beneath the hearth,
Invites you to enter it's pages alone,
While two steel warriors watch over,
You journey across a deathless plain,
And over ageless mountains which rise above the balance,
To a jagged coast where her castle now stands,
Besieged by memories of childhood dreams,
And of all the love that had visited once before,
You will find her her standing far above,
In the highest tower with her raven hair pulled back by Eurus,
Gazing out beyond Posiedon's Kingdom,
Her eyes reflecting the Ocean's temper,
For a future stolen by Azael upon a new years eve,
Before Apollo set forth in his golden chariot,
Her fate was written in Gaberiel's book long past,
When the light of Freedom's true meaning was destroyed,
Under the shadow of Luciefer's flight,
Minerva spun tomorrows course,
Unaware of one such as Arache, who would dare to challenge,
The splendor of Olympus might, now but a abode of myths,
Where Lord and Master are man's aphotic side,
Her sculptured form awaits an endless virgil,
Silently seeking the return of Elijah,
In exile within a world where death holds no release,
And where all paths lead to where they have begun,
Her Lover, as was Promethus, unjustly bound in chains,
Constantly in torment over thoughts of her inescapable plight,
With non able to loosen the grip of yesterday's deeds,
She stands there alone without a moments release,
Her sorrow the mist of life's crashing defeat,
With the Light of the World lost in archaic interval,
Alas, before you can truly become aware,
Your conscience is suddenly returned to where you now sit,
As the warmth of your fireside dream begins to fade,
Her spirit anon appears questioning your presence,
To which your answer seems to echo endlessly without repose.

--- White Rabbitt
lijahloverlijahlover on June 2nd, 2010 09:32 pm (UTC)
Re: Huh ? I write Poetry