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With all the power within me,
but against every fiber that is me.
We must now travel down different paths.
The
grief of the long road ahead could
never be depicted within the strokes on the
canvas beneath the artist brush.
So
we go genteelly down our separate paths,
our foot fall neer be heard.
The dark clouds of the storm rolls in,
releasing
the never ending rumble from the sky
that opens its gates and mystifies. Those who are
caught in the cascade of shimmering
drops falling
to mask the dew which blurs our eyes.
Where now this day is night , and even though
the distance
is great make full circle of our banishment.
So within the shimmer of the moon we may once again meet.
Oh to see
the hues of pink and red fill the sky
as the sun descends into its nightly resting place.
Perchance we may share this
same sky.
To end this bitter journey for which we have been cursed
and once again rejoice in the sweetness of
the timeless
love the intertwines us as one.
Oh my love, do not speak of this.
For the torture is to cruel.
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