Friday, September 17, 2004

Sonnet.

When darkness hides the light upon your face,
And life's own fragile beauty breaks to me,
Will you, my only love, still bring your grace
Unto my dying breath, until I'm free?
For you have held my hand and wiped my tears;
You've sung your hopeful song when I would dance
My mournful dance; you've kissed away my fears,
And all my gloom would melt with just a glance
From your eyes glowing with a burning peace.
My love, your brokenness enthralls me still,
And still your joy infects me with its smile.
Yet heaven's glory, shining on me, will
Be more sufficient for me through these miles.
Alas, my love, I draw my dying breath,
But naught can break us now, not even death.

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