the poem that breathes for you
It looks like the end
It looks like sunset
But in reality it’s dawn
When the grave chained you up
That was when your soul was freed
As you descend into the monster’s abyss.
The Earth should have screamed
Some song should have played
Some storm should have told us
All grim and decayed.
Your seed fell to the earth,
Yet did not rise with new life.
But why lament for your soul
When it can come back?
If love is true, death must make the change,
To end love, life must be taken away,
Yet though our love is over, mine will forever stay,
A triumph over death I will surely arrange,
Rechanneling a fate I can never change,
That perhaps we might still on fields of fancy play.
The love's not lost, nor will it abrade
By the rain and by the wind,
But will become the sentient soil in which
You plant new seeds each spring.
And all of us who dance in this world will be washed with rain
Where the sun shines ever brighter, and no sorrows will longer remain.