Although our passion
Has faded away,
And sorrow wounds
Me night and day,
I will still say,
I love you.
The Woman in the Black Veil
The woman in the black veil still weeps. The earth is saturated with her tears, and quakes in anger and sorrow. The sounds of her weeping and wailing pierces the very soul, and gives way to emotional waves of sadness. Only the tormented and afflicted know her pain. She walks among the shadows at night; her long black dress adorned with lace, drags on the ground behind her. Her black veil conceals her face. The children of the night and the afflicted know her name; she calls to them in a haunting voice and they come. They slowly approach with faces of sadness and watery eyes of pain; she wipes the tears from their eyes through black satin gloves. In silence, they congregate around her in a circle and stretch forth their hands to touch her; in each ear she faintly whispers the name of the child she lost, and to the afflicted she gives a sorrowful kiss. One by one they slowly depart, and fade into the darkness. The memory of her lost child is sealed within her. With a loud voice, she screams the name of her dead beloved repetitively—then silence. The darkness knows her name and is consumed with her anguish. The abyss is stirred.
Heaven’s Light
Heaven’s light,
Shine down on the children
Of the night;
See their pain;
See their hunger;
Know their plight.
Bless them;
Love them;
Adorn them
In garments of white.
Hear the longing
in their cries;
Comfort them;
Forever wipe the
Tears from their eyes.
They Await the Day
The billows of peril blow;
The smoke of never ending agony
Is involuntarily inhaled,
And enters the bloodstream;
The torturous moments
Are replayed over and over.
The body tries to rid itself of the invasion,
But once it starts, it cannot be stopped;
It must run its course.
It is difficult to remain calm as panic ensues.
Descent into the abyss seems imminent;
The darkness is frightful and consuming.
Afflicted souls cry out
And reach for a place of light;
Hyper-vigilant eyes scan corners
In the darkness of night.
The pulse rate increases
And the heart palpitates.
The cries of the sorrowful
and the afflicted are seldom heard;
The dividing line between sanity
And insanity is easily blurred.
Windows to the soul are bloodshot
And clouded with tears;
The emaciated appearance
Is the result of the hardship of the years.
Curiosity of passersby cause them to look
Deep into the eyes;
The suffering of the soul is seen;
They quickly look away in horror—
And many cry upon witnessing
The utter desolation and ruin of that dark place.
Tired Souls listlessly huddle together in pitch darkness,
And together await the dawning of the sun;
So that heaven can hear their plea,
In unison they continuously hum.
Her silence is not golden. It is hard for her to speak. She is listless and tired. Her eyes are the written volumes of her life. Read through the pages thoroughly, and in deep concentration. See the torturous blood that flows through her veins; feel her sorrow. Hear the agony in her voice.
Speak to me in loving tones and beautiful whispers, so I can hear your voice in my spirit eternally, and remember your love forever.
See Me
See me;
See me for who I am.
In my passion, see my desire;
In my weeping, see my pain:
In my warmth, see my love;
In my agony, see my affliction.
