Though he's gone, life goes on as before --
The rising sun still announces dawn;
At night the moon paces my bedroom floor,
But now my lonely heart cries out "Begone!"

Without him, seasons still come and go,
Callous Spring comes strewing her flowers;
I pay no heed to Nature's to and fro,
In despair is how my heart spends its hours

Since he left, the joys I knew have flown,
At once, like startled birds taking wing;
The last of the summer's roses have blown,
Not a trace remains of our fairy ring

When he left, he took my hopes and dreams,
Strange, he was so different from the rest;
Now my abandoned heart silently screams
While I stare at the sun like one possessed

O, yes, I know his love was not real!
Just a seed sown by a desperate hand,
Expecting to harvest my heart's ideal --
A castle of dreams built upon quicksand

Well, now there are no seeds left to sow,
But in failure I have found meaning:
Imagined love can never thrive and grow,
And grants harvests too sparse for the gleaning

Let the wounded bird take wing,
Though dismal may be his fate;
Should he overcome this cruel sting,
His triumph he'll celebrate

Let the willow bend and weep;
Though it appears to be weak,
It would tell you its roots run deep
If it were able to speak

Let the wolf howl to the moon --
He has the right to be heard;
Morning will be here all too soon,
Then enters the singing bird

Let the spider weave her snare,
For this task she was designed;
While her prey, feeling no despair,
Awaits its cruel fate, resigned

Let love and loneliness brawl,
Let die the things that must die;
Release the tears and let them fall,
And let the broken heart cry

Let me love without constraints --
The sinking boat needs no oar;
Do not preach of sinners and saints
With Death's feet so near my door

Let me taste love's sweetest wine,
And let this shattered heart mend;
Having seen my star of love shine,
Then let the curtain descend

Come, my love, we've no time to waste,
The clock is chiming eleven,
Just enough time to get one last taste
Of the Sweet Elixir of Heaven

Autumn's love is no less sublime
Than Spring's first love, daring and grand;
But the hourglass has turned its last time .....
We must outrun Life's fast-falling sand

Pace cannot be arbitrary ---
The river is starting to freeze;
Hurry, my love, try not to tarry,
If you must, crawl on your hands and knees!

Love is calling in the distance,
Offering us her glorious shroud;
Lest she think we offer resistance,
Let us claim all the joy we're allowed

Autumn's last buds will soon depart,
As icy winds nip at the vine;
Soon nothing will stir this dying heart --
Neither love, nor song, nor vintage wine

Time is anxious to take its toll,
The sun's setting ..... let us make haste;
No longer at leisure can we stroll,
Come now, my love .... we've no time to waste!

What artist has dared to lay his brush
Upon this canvas, and vainly strive
To paint life into a dying heart
That surrendered its will to survive?

Only a master would dare this feat,
This assignment so bizarre and rare:
Paint a woman starved of love and joy,
Without revealing her true despair

Study those eyes locked in a cold gaze,
As if hiding unbearable pain;
Who can surmise what hell burns within?
This mute painting will never explain

A tear-moistened smile rests on her lips,
Causing premonitions dark and bleak
To the viewer, who can only guess
What he might hear if those lips would speak

Her empty hands, resting in her lap,
Are clasped together as if in prayer;
Voiceless supplications rise unheard,
A deafening silence fills the air

What artist is this that chose to paint
What the uncaring Fates have decreed:
A life of unending loneliness,
A broken heart, ever meant to bleed

Great artist, your work is now complete,
A masterpiece of duality --
Despair and hope, laced with smiles and tears,
Obscuring her true identity

This painter who dared not sign his name,
Nor from this daunting task, seek release --
Surely, now you recognize his style
As you behold Misery's masterpiece!

If you've grown weary of my love, just go!
You need no excuse clever or cunning;
But should your cup of loneliness overflow,
Just call my name, you know I'll come running

Your love is weak, it leaves me needing more --
Like a skiff with no breeze to fill its sail,
A seashell washed up on a lonely shore;
But should you need me, just call - I'll not fail

In love there's no common sense or reason,
And there are no rules to which Love adheres;
Too often, dazzled hearts witness treason,
And the fairytale always ends in tears

Love is a strange song, sung in many keys,
Righteous or false,  Love is the staff of life;  
Just see how quickly we're brought to our knees
When Loneliness plunges its frigid knife!

So bring me your love, unfaithful or true,
It matters not if it's rough or tender;
In your arms let me greet dawn's rosy hue --
Then mock if you must my self-surrender

How lonely must the night become,
How dark before we are shown the light?
Must it be the starving man's last crumb
That draws God's attention to his plight?

To what degree must the heart break --
'Til it's held by one thin fragile thread?
Can we shout a sleeping God awake?
Dare we go where angels fear to tread!

How many tears must stain the page
Of the distraught poet's saddest verse?
The answer evades the wisest sage,
Could it be God himself laid this curse?

But in vain we question our fate --
Superficial particles are we,
Destined for death, nervously we wait,
Born to suffer - but to what degree?

Is no man worthy of his birth?
From what Source sprang this complexity?
Begging for mercy has little worth,
Not even Death pledges amnesty

Might the darkness get darker still?
Does our suffering bridge eternity?
Is wrath part of God's undying will
To torment us ....... but to what degree?

If I were on the shore, looking out toward the sea,
And from a distance, you beckoned to me,
Could I not tread water to reach you in haste,
To be held in your arms, and your kisses to taste?

If I were a garden wall made of rock and stone
And you, a vine, forsaken and alone,
How could I not invite you to boldly climb
Until I was covered by your foliage sublime?

If I were sure that it's my love you were craving,
And from a cloud, to me you were waving,
The embers of passion's fire having been stirred,
Could I not fly directly to you like a bird?

If you were to tell me I alone owned your heart,
How incomplete you feel when we're apart,
Even after death, I shall not be forgot ....
Would I love you, too? My darling, how could I not!