*Your Beauty*

Your beauty* is like an exquisite flower  Growing ontop of the highest mountain Peaking at the very height of its power

 

 

Your Beauty is like Art
To where all may see in awe
Entering my heart
You have not a single flaw

Your beauty flows like a river
Following the way of the stream
Glowing slightest glimmer
Only seen in our dreams

Your beauty shines bright
From whom we cannot wait
Glistening in the moon light
Meeting you was considered fate

Your beauty makes us speechless
Unable to say a word
When we are with you, we are sleepless
While we try to talk, it comes out slurred

Your beauty cannot be described
Words couldn’t touch the surface
This love I feel inside
Never can I stop being nervous

You are gorgeous in every single way
Loving you will be my duty
Unable to be kept away
This… is… the… power… of… *
Your Beauty

 

Bright Star

Bright Star

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art–
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors–
No–yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever–or else swoon to death.

Dreams

Dreams

By Mihran Kalaydjian, CHA

Consultant, Strategist, and Writer


Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream!
My spirit not awakening, till the beam
Of an Eternity should bring the morrow.
Yes! tho’ that long dream were of hopeless sorrow,
‘Twere better than the cold reality
Of waking life, to him whose heart must be,
And hath been still, upon the lovely earth,
A chaos of deep passion, from his birth.
But should it be- that dream eternally
Continuing- as dreams have been to me
In my young boyhood- should it thus be given,
‘Twere folly still to hope for higher Heaven.
For I have revell’d, when the sun was bright
I’ the summer sky, in dreams of living light
And loveliness,- have left my very heart
In climes of my imagining, apart
From mine own home, with beings that have been
Of mine own thought- what more could I have seen?
‘Twas once- and only once- and the wild hour
From my remembrance shall not pass- some power
Or spell had bound me- ’twas the chilly wind
Came o’er me in the night, and left behind
Its image on my spirit- or the moon
Shone on my slumbers in her lofty noon
Too coldly- or the stars- howe’er it was
That dream was as that night-wind- let it pass.

I have been happy, tho’ in a dream.
I have been happy- and I love the theme:
Dreams! in their vivid coloring of life,
As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife
Of semblance with reality, which brings
To the delirious eye, more lovely things
Of Paradise and Love- and all our own!
Than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known.