#WritcoPoemPrompt48
Write a poem about a time that your illusions of someone or something were shattered.

And from a different realm his highness came.
when the weather was filled with summer hues,
I was flourished to see his shine.
In the seasons of thunder and storms
we bloomed together so brightly .
I hadn't known him well
as for he was an aura so unfamiliar ;
he was known as my sire,
his love blinded a part of mine.
In the judgements of others,
I was known as his madman;
in the writings of others,
I was called his devotee;
in my own ways,
I wanted to be known as his myth -
a myth so known yet so unknown,
a myth of so much desperation,
a myth of someplace of nowhere .
I was too much in love ;
a delusion I held for his name.
Once they said:
"illusions don't repel pain"
and mine did the same .
An angel of the heavens was he
that turned so dead very soon,
inevitable death he had..
which I couldn't ignore.
He wasn't mine
however, I wanted to be called his .
On this shore of no reciprocation
I await for him to be alive,
I look at the shore waiting for the sea to arrive.
I wish I could be his shore;
I wish I could be his poet
so to make him written by me only .
Maybe.. sires are meant to be dead..
or maybe seasons are made to be withered .
He was my summer that turned into winter ;
he was my sire who died in my war,
he was my writer who wrote my myth
and he was my dead lover
whose reflection became my muse.
© aymenfazel