By Linda Hays-Gibbs
Oh my love! I close my eyes to see your face.
Sometimes it's there, but fleeting now...
So sorry, what a waste!
Grasping for you somehow, your feel, your scent, your smell, something to tell,
My love is gone, so bereft, A million tears I've kept
Empty arms inconsolate,
Piercing pain, I cannot sate, it's too late!
Never to hold such warmth again, to feel such pleasure, incontinent oblivion for fate, disdain the debate.
There is no other, so my heart can proceed hence forth, no further.
I burn and boil for one hint of your essence to hold, but You're not there, just gone
Gone to the worms, the dirt From whence we all came, So I burn.
With humilities disdains and with more I yearn but you, My sweet?
Rancid and putrid, rotting in the ground, becoming a man in hell forever bound
Do we start again? No!
My only consolation, is this: That you are encircled somewhere in heaven's bliss, surround by heavenly beings and Given God's own ecstasies' kiss, for without you to hold me, the only Way I continue, To know, That someday again into your arms I shall go, no longer to wait
And when you enfold me into your being
I will neer remember this grief, this distress, this unmentionable, inconsolable estate.
