Low Wu Yang's online personal space

Armed with benevolence so kind,
Never forsaking those who are blind,
Gracious hands, oh so refined,
Effusive love that does not bind,
Look up upon one so divine.

To err is not so much as is to take,
the very heart of one you hold so dear.
So lest you strive for said to you, forsake,
displace that sheen of stiff and tense austere.
To claim again the broken heart once lost,
bestow upon the owner words of gold.
To save you from high shrieks that scream, “Accost!”,
your beating heart should glow and not be cold.
Should gilt edged language fail to do the trick,
sincerity and honesty you wield.
The nuances of love are so mystic,
the broken iron heart is bound to yield.
So ever should you find the need to cry,
object of thy affection will stand by.

Try, try and try again,
it doesn’t matter its all the same.
If the fates don’t go your way,
you’ll never have the final say.
So hold your horses, halt your work.
Because all the effort is worth naught but dirt.

I write this verse with anxious hands.
Too far away from familiar lands.
This isn’t just some vague pretence.
The fear I feel is too intense.

anything at all.

Dreams of bliss,
Dreams of splendour,
Dreams that set your heart a flutter.

Dreams of truth,
Dreams of fantasy,
Dreams that might divulge your journey.

Dreams of angst,
Dreams of fury,
Dreams you always long to bury.

Dreams of insight,
Dreams that impart,
Dreams you keep close to your heart.

Recently I have been dreaming very well. I somehow always awaken to find myself smiling and refreshed. So I thought I might write a little tribute to my new-found source of solace.