In a dimly lit room,
Gaunt, bluish discolored hands
Slowly reach for heavenly light.
Category: Prose
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Nothingness.
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“And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground.” (Luke 22:44, KJV)
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In darkness, you wrap me in your warmth and hold me tightly.
You nourish me with love and kind words of inspiration.
With Affection, you rub me gently and speak to me in soft tones.
In tempest and sorrow you are my strength, and place of refuge.
Day by day, I grow strong in your never ending affection.
In your womb, I am comforted. -
“Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword.” (Matthew 10:34, KJV)
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Walls witness tears in dark rooms.
Debilitating illness drains strength
And leaves one listless and withered.
The venom of fear infiltrates bloodstream
And relentlessly infuses itself.
Movements are slow and measured.
Lethargy renders the once youthful
Spirit to ashes and dust;
The chaos of the mind is manifested.
War rages behind bloodshot eyes.
Days of the week are forgotten
And become useless and irrelevant.
The sun is not felt or seen for months.
Time is measured in moments of reprieve.
The toxicity of it is potent, and unforgiving.
Pain is purged through tears and loud cries.
Thoughts of existence are contemplated
And weighed in the balance. -
“And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.” (Revelation 21:4, KJV)
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The fires of fear rage against me. I will look to the mountains and valley streams for peace and reprieve. I will call on your name in the evening while walking through vast fields of cherry blossom trees. Let the starlight bear witness to the peace that overcomes my countenance; let the moon and the stars see the love in my heart that pours out for you. My love, kiss me deeply and tell me a story of two lovers who lived a dream and died in each others arms. I will sing a new song to you in a whispering tone while you are asleep, and run my fingers gently through your long hair. Darling, your countenance is that of an angel. Let us sleep in lush open fields so that the moonlight can illuminate your beautiful face. Let the night’s sky look down upon us and be envious of our love. You are my heart. You are my life. Your femininity has captured me for perpetuity. The way you draw me close to you with hands soft as silk; the way you softly kiss me as if I were in an eternal dream. The scent of your freshly washed hair and the scent of your perfume captures the essence of you. The color of your lipstick is in beautiful contrast with the tone of your skin. Your earrings and necklace set you in elegant array. My weary head resting in your bosom is a comfort that could never be described. I listen to your heartbeat and fall asleep as if I were a child. Close to your heart is were I will always be. You are my heart and I am yours. We are no longer two, but have become one. In the midst of my darkness, you are the moon, stars, and the sun.
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Dried teardrops are invisible. The heaviness of sorrow lingers. Agony of unrealized dreams are consumed by the darkness. Remnants of pain are left on a razor’s edge. Angels weep.
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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.
Intimate Compositions 