Endymion

My gorgeous

Endymion

.

Rest now, and forever,
and hold your tongue until then.
Your youthful demeanor is too fragile,
too stunning
to be marred by the disasters of humankind.

The dirt from my soul
may very well soil your pores
and clog your pure countenance.

Don't look now!
Rest. Sleep, and be peaceful.
Beauty is a gift, correct?
Isn't that what we know?

But poor you,
you gorgeous

Endymion

.

Sleep and ignore the world,
and let time turn its tables without you
so that you may flourish without the burdens
of the hourglass sand grains.

Fortunately,
my love is saved for another,
so as to be careful not to mar your
assumed-to-be SUPERIOR defiance (of society, of life).

And he, oh he is gorgeous.
Not quite the way you are,

my dear.

His heart is stunning,
he radiates with cheer.
He brings me absolute joy,
just by being with him, breathing with him.

But you.
You can stay asleep,
piece of artwork that you are,

Endymion

.

Let anybody observe you and delve in your seductive contours.
And wait for that one moment
when you will dream
(a nightmare, hopefully),
and awaken to the one who will smile at your heart.

At your Heart.


Endymion is a Roman pagan mythological character who was a beautiful youth, rewarded with eternal and undisturbed sleep. But does beauty matter most when it comes to love?