Bye, Bye Love
HEAVY, HEAVY UPON MY FAILING HEART weighs
Your aching need for my full and loving devotion.
I spend myself willingly on your behalf because,
Truly, your needs and wishes outstrip my own.
If I were young and wiry man, for you
I'd scale a rock and brave a torrent.
Yes, that is what I do, no thought of self,
To save my love from daily peril.
Strength and life escape my soul while
Succor I offer your own failing heart.
It is no loss I gave my all to grant
You life and bade my own adieu.
beautiful though so sad.... I have to believe that love endures somehow, written in our hearts, living in our very cells....
(I have been very very ill lately, and thoughts of my own mortality are very much with me and some days it is easier to contemplate than other days.... Your post has brought me to tears, because we really do think about 'those we leave behind'.... it really does all come down to the PEOPLE in our lives, the people we love and cherish, and the legacy we leave with them, how they think of us in their hearts.... )
May you, and they, be blessed.... (I do not mean that word in a religious sense any more, but in the sense of having goodness and gratitude.... )
Dear Muddy Waters:
Thank you so very much for your post. Allow me, please, to express my own sympathy for what you're currently enduring. We have all gotten older and sicker and now face the inevitable. My past brushes with the Grim Reaper woke me up to my own mortality, as you wrote. Fortunately, for both of us, he approached our doors, ready to knock, but reconsidered and turned on his heel and sought out someone else.
I hope the following poem offers you some consolation. My detachment from the former sadness that inspired hundreds of poems and stories has faded away. Sure, I have my moments, but now it's like, "OH! Did I actually write this?"
Blessings and peace.
MY DAY'S LONG AND ARDUOUS JOURNEY winds down.
Infinite night gracefully descends and takes me into her
I have no reason to fear the inevitable,
That transition into a higher and
More glorious state
Than allowed me upon this
Beautiful but angst-filled
I rejoice in what has been
Prepared from early on.
I await the call . . .
What is this wall, like brick and mortar, that separates
your proud heart from mine contrite and broken?
At one time -- I recall so very well -- your soul
and spirit were joined in joy to mine.
You are near me -- how clearly I see you --
yet your eyes are miles away . . .
So, too, your wandering heart that
has left mine destroyed. . . .
Our love was beyond time and death. The promise of true love kept me alive despite every reason to bid this angst-filled world goodbye.
Have I set my sights too high? I hold you dear, more so now than ever before. Yet, your inattention to my torn heart plunges me into a despair that has no boundaries. Does a flawed man merit the reassurance that the deepest of wounds shall be healed?
There was a time when you heard my plaintive cries and offered such succor as calmed my disquieting mood. Yes, ever at my side to console and to lift from the fathomless pit.
There is no question that I am needy, that I do admit. Surely, it pains me that I am a weak and ignoble excuse of a man. Nonetheless, we were a perfect match: you, the strong and giving, I, the devoted and worshipful.
Unworthy, yes, but needing true love as I require the air that I breathe . . .
Compound Complex, thank you for your lovely poems.
I have appreciated reading them very much.
(sent you a pm in reply)
When one is really ill, as I have recently learned, I have become so incredibly grateful for the people and gifts and blessings in my life -- the littlest thing becomes a refreshing wonder or miracle (though I am not religious at all anymore). I find myself becoming more and more appreciative of the littlest, simplest things... there is a purity in moments, a clarity which I had not perceived before.
I am glad you can release your soul and spirit in the form of poetry. May you find peace and contentment in your present state, and thoughts of healing and positiveness are in my heart toward you.
Your beautiful, appreciative thoughts mean so much, dear Muddy Waters. I am glad that, despite pain and suffering, your heart is in a happy place.
A NEVER LOVETheresa loved Edmond more than life; her sentiments did not remain secreted away in the cloisters of her heart. A writer of no little renown, she put her mind and that overflowing heart to paper in order to give life to true love's expression:O love of mine, you take no note of the one who loves you so,
You whose wandering heart takes flight while vacant eyes fix on
A chair, a book, but not upon the heart that beats so fiercely for you.No matter her passion, her proffering of gifts and attention upon the man she was enamored of, he paid her scant heed. An unrequited love, to be sure, an admiration from afar, though Theresa was ever in Edmond's company. His attention, his heart . . . both were in a far off place, a land she could never inhabit.She told her impassioned story through the vanity press. The books -- delivered to her cottage on Hollands Drive -- remain, to this day, in boxes gathering dust . . . eaten through by rats. . . .