So short is my time;
fleeing in moments...
passing as visions before mine eyes,
images of seconds, of flying
wing’ed creatures, pawing at my past
blurring my senses, as
hours die, lost to history...
I pray that I am not too late...
for my Heartache wearies me,
sorrow drains my soul of life, and
burdens me with dissatisfaction...
this cross I bear ‘tis so laden...
to my knees I fall in despair,
asking only relief, and in receipt, only anguish.
Love lends the scars of my pain.
ever deeper goes its thorny blade,
woe does not foretell its finish,
nor tear’ed eye predict its end.
for many times hath my spirits waver’ed,
in want of solace and repair...
Love begets the wretch that cares.
Relief; ‘tis but one word only...
over done and so unsolicited, for
beggar be the one who follies with Love, thy
smiling, beguiling temptress of faulted fate,
unsubmissive to sorry’s plea,
remorseless and unrelenting in its tragedy,
when 'forgive' is my only phrase.