Into the Never-Ending
Some time long ago, light was yet fading to grey,
we sat in rose garden at a midsummer's day.
The little bank we rested on, wooden and gilt,
was surrounded by plants, some blooming, some wilt.
Beautiful roses, as red as warm blood,
covered the garden and veiled so the mud.
Intimate buzzing and droning was heard,
fair song of small bees and humming bird.
The tiny white house, looking old and run down,
was some miles away from the next busy town.
As you sat beside me, your hand clutching mine,
it was indeed my most precious time.
Your soft haired head leaning against mine so slight,
I swore to protect you- with all my might.
High clouds passed the sky, so woolen and smooth,
while tender warm wind caressed us both.
I slow moved my hand, to point up above
and knew that your eyes were following, Love.
The sun shining dimly as afternoon arose,
my mind found a beautiful question to pose.
Assuming to stay forever with you here,
I dreamingly whispered into your ear:
"Look at the sky, tell what you see,
say, is it heaven- or eternity?"
You gave me a smile with shimmering eyes,
telling me heaven was not found in the skies.
Your hand rose from mine to lie on your heart,
and what you then said caught me just right off guard.
"The never-ending" you told me, as if this was clear,
"can nowhere be found- if it is not here."
Alle Rechte an diesem Beitrag liegen beim Autoren. Der Beitrag wurde auf e-Stories.org vom Autor eingeschickt Ivana Herrmann.
Veröffentlicht auf e-Stories.org am 21.08.2004.