In the warm clouds of pandemoniumand the vastness of Heavens,
the blue skies have written your name
upon each tender breath of my soul,
and all coming rains cannot wash it away!
Like a symphony your love has sang to me
with a beauty and grace,
sadness and glory.
It has enacted it's story,
sometime in silence; sometimes with fury
and great thunders of nature,
that frightened me.
I do not know why,
the Guardian Angels of providence will not say,
yet they comfort me; if I cry
and gently whisper "It will be OK"...
Of all my events transcendent,
yours and mine as one,
I never wanted to see the final act
but you left me in the theater of life,
and I waited anxiously,
wanting to flee.
The curtain fell suddenly,
the seat next to me vacant
and my open hand and heart cold.
I still sit in the dark
trying to remember every word,
every scene, every act,
as Coleridge said;
*"That willing suspension of disbelief
for the moment, constitutes poetic faith.".*
I am still willing to disbelieve
it is all over,,,
all for the sake of romance
and the poetry it inspires.
Why are my songs
written with Angels tears?
LHL
*Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834) English poet
