Upon yon fields of Elysium fair,
There stood a gladiator, strong and bare,
With visage chiseled by the gods’ own hand,
He thieved my heart with but a single stand.
His eyes, like flame that doth the shadows part,
Did set ablaze the chambers of mine heart,
A fire kindled not by earthly pyre,
But by the breath of passion's pure desire.
His sinews bound by fate’s celestial thread,
In battles fought where angels dare not tread,
He bore the scars of tempests, fierce and wild,
Yet in his gaze, a tenderness beguiled.
O! Gladiator, thou hast stolen whole
The very breath and marrow of mine soul,
A thief who claimeth more than he can hold,
And leaves a maid forsaken in the cold.
Yet, in this theft, I find a paradise,
Where pain and pleasure mix in soft disguise,
For thou hast given more than e’er was thine,
And made this heart an altar to thy shrine.
By ancient rites, I call upon thee now,
To seal this love with more than fleeting vow,
For in thy flame, my spirit doth ascend,
O gladiator, lover, and my end.
Thy name, a whisper on the wind’s soft breath,
Doth linger sweet, though time shall bring its death,
And in Elysium, we shall meet once more,
Where love and loss are but an open door.
Thus, hold me fast, and let the heavens cry,
For thou art mine until the stars do die,
A gladiator in this heart of stone,
Who claimed my soul and called it all his own.
© poembyselly