To me, no more alive, well
As dead, waiting in state,
O let me this to you tell:
Had you just whispered, ‘wait',
I'd sure have returned from death,
Alive lives in you my faith.
If beckoned you'd me to wait,
I'd sure have over stayed,
Returned from the land of dead,
Escaping from the prison's fated gate;
Try still, lift up this dark hood
Of death, break my solitude.
Come to me like a warm spring,
Let bygone be graved for good,
Or buried deep with this hood,
Listen, our hearts still as one sing.
Let me from the dead return
A new page in life to turn.
It's one thing losing life-breath,
Another, to lose one's faith,
And it is this very faith
That I miss you more in death.
Believe me, miss you in death
O more than in life and breath.
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Musings | 10.04.13 |
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My faith! ! Solitude! Muse of love and life. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
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