The truth which I suppose had haunted me in these recent times
In reverence here you shall rest
While I attempt to portray you
To frame you
For those to yet view the imperfect picture
You shall see the drapes pulled away
Inspect the canvas worn with age
The splintered heart
Name these things
For the soul needs testimony
And in these things there is bounty
Rejoice! For is that not enough?
For you to exist whilst the ideal does not