LAMP of my life, the lips of Death
Hath blown thee out with their sudden breath;
Naught shall revive thy vanished spark . . .
Love, must I dwell in the living dark?
Tree of my life, Death's cruel foot
Hath crushed thee down to thy hidden root;
Nought shall restore thy glory fled . . .
Shall the blossom live when the tree is dead?
Life of my life, Death's bitter sword
Hath severed us like a broken word,
Rent us in twain who are but one . .
Shall the flesh survive when the soul is gone?
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From guest rhondasail (contact)
Grief so well colored, to the point of beauty. Impressive ability to show the connection of hearts and lives. I particularly appreciate the comparisons between life/light and death/dark. Her deathlike life remains but she knows not how to make it light again. Beautifully rendered.
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