Sometimes I feel my passion spilling
out in sobs, the way a fountain overflows.
I know I hear it, sighing as it goes, and
searching my wings — find heaven’s wound.
As drops turn to streams, and streams to stone,
the soil under my feet feels like a lost battleground,
sucking my soul down, alone, to all that has fallen,
and I sink into the dying gravity of this world.
How often have I called for the wind to dry,
if only for a day, this wasting tear —
to take my years from me, to blow my eyes clear!
But now, in love’s Fall, all I see is blue oblivion.
All I see are red leaves and Autumn’s shadow near,
Then, she is here, falling into my arms, lips touching
mine — and, as I close my eyes: I feel her, divine.