When lit drops like diamonds
or headswept stars
cascade to,
as I collide,
the ground
(and me)
in golden glory like he told,
there is like to be
(at once as wet as when we met)
the sunset.
poetry in the classical style, in generally pleasant themes
When lit drops like diamonds
or headswept stars
cascade to,
as I collide,
the ground
(and me)
in golden glory like he told,
there is like to be
(at once as wet as when we met)
the sunset.
This love will always, always have been.
And I praise the one who made it so.
For whatever evil may come between
– foxes or sund’ring or death itself –
the facts of days can not be unreen,
nor taken from the page bestowed.
Though the days themselves pass gone,
their thanks will ring for eternity
and no foe can steal what’s done
– the times and gift that were given me.
Now to Yahweh, the eternally blessed one,
beyond all seasons, unending glory be.
* * *
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