From his album: Let’s Get It On.
Released August 28th, 1973.
“I love you so much.”
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I have loved you from the inception of my creation;
My longing shadow kisses your reflection.
I will love you always, is my solemn declaration.
In your sleep, I whisper to you loving words,
And long held utterances unheard.
An angel sleeps.
Dark waterfalls flow on pillows;
Polaris sheds tears of joy,
Like the bristling of leaves, when light breezes
Blow against the willows.
Blue silk drapes over the countenance of a goddess.
I behold you, under the glow of soft light flawless.
If I ever in any way hurt you,
With weeping, my soul repents,
In this life and the next. -
After a flood of thoughts
And futile reasoning,
The descent into hell begins. -
Blood in battle;
The wailing of men in agony;
A king’s sword with the blood of his enemies;
Men of war with many great victories;
Relics and precious jewelry handed down through the centuries;
The vastness of halls with fire against walls;
A gorgeous queen in all her glory;
Men of great inventions,
And scribes who write your story.
Subjects who swear their loyalty;
The overindulgence; the feasting;
The splendor of royalty.
The conquering of kingdoms,
And the taking of lands;
The spoils of war;
The world in jeweled hands.
The jealousy;
The betrayal;
The waywardness of daughters,
And sons who are ungrateful.
The continued poisoning of meat;
The drunkenness of a disconsolate king in his seat;
The emaciation of the once mighty;
The thinness;
The gauntness;
The sickness.
In his own kin, the eyes of treachery.
The discovery of dark ambition, inadvertently.
To live, he must now kill his enemy;
By the light of the morning,
A first born son will be no more.
The decision of a king;
The falling of a legacy.
The cold, discolored skin;
The heaviness of the heart of a king.
The silence of death;
The agony.
The torment of finality.
The renting of kingly robes;
The heavy head of a king on his throne;
The canker;
The weeping.
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Of eyes that cry;
Of cloudy skies;
Of last breaths;
Of the stillness of death;
Of tears that permeate black veils;
Of rosaries clutched with a deep inhale;
Of the weary who sojourn;
Of mothers of slain sons who mourn;
Of the lament of winter breaths;
Of tender kisses while she slept;
Of loving paragraphs in-depth;
Of healing after they wept.
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Mothers grieve for their sons who receive no reprieve.
Their delicate eyes look upon the skies and ask clouds to wash away the pain;
Where he was slain the blood stains.
Without a just trial they are crucified;
The executioner smiles with malice in his eyes.
A mother runs barefoot to the scene with weeping,
And blurred eyes with tears streaming.
Look down from above, and see her kneeling and praying,
In his last seconds to comfort him, before he stops breathing,
And the precious life is gone from him.
His last tears streaming, as she holds onto him;
Her dress permeated with remnants of him.
The blood; the mud that he fell in.
The ghosts of the slain refuse to rest
Until they are recompensed,
For to live in constant anxiety
Is to live in the purgatory of agony.
Oh beautiful mothers of the slain,
We will venerate them and remember their names,
their pictures adorned with flowers;
You gave birth to them, but now they are all ours.
Even in death we hold them,
For they are all ours.
We will remember them from the morning,
Into the late hours;
Until there is no more mourning,
They dwell on the other side among the flowers,
In a great gathering where there are adults and children
On the banks of peaceful rivers. -
In the agony of silent suffering the eyes sometimes deceive;
What lies behind is hard to find, for it is inside they grieve.
Dark clouds are overhead;
The sun is held back behind a heavy grey veil:They gasp for air but cannot inhale;
They gasp for air but cannot inhale;With the commencing of dark rain, they start to wail;
In torturous sounds that thunder can’t drown, they start to wail.
Two small yellow pills, and one half a cup of water to take away the pain.
Two small yellow pills and then forty minutes later, a deep inhale.A euphoric inhale;
Six hours later, two more pills to exercise the demons and cure the ills.
Another six hours, and after a shower … before tears spill.
If only blissful dreams could wash away the silent screams.
In the early hours, to dull the pain, sometimes they scream.At 6 am, sometimes they scream.
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I come to you broken.
I come to you with severed wings
In agonizing pain unspoken;
I come to you lifeless
With eyes that have cried
Under red skies with with perpetual longing.
I come to you grounded,
With faint hopes of flying.
I come to you sorrowful;
The dust from the remnants
Of a broken vessel.
Look upon my countenance,
And see me in my wretched totality;
Take the full measure of me,
And gaze upon me lovingly.
I am broken, yet love overflows in me.
Let me sleep in your embrace;
Kiss me for an eternity,
And let me touch your face,
Caressing you gently.
In the warmth of your rapture,
Wrap me eternally.
From torment, lament, and pain take me;
Through loving eyes see me.
Rescue me;
Resurrect me under a bright star’s glory.
With your hair, dry my weeping eyes,
And with your healing love
Rewrite my story. -
That I would awake you at 4 am
Just to touch you and breathe again;
That I would hold you lovingly
And kiss you like the world was
sixty seconds from its end.
That I would revere you
Like a precious relic long preserved
And unblemished.
That I would whisper to you
Beautiful words from my heart
That are true and pure;
That I would look into your eyes
And tell you it is you that I adore.
That I would run my fingers through you hair
and marvel at the gorgeous creation that you are;
That I would inhale you in last breaths
And proclaim my undying love
Even in the throes of death.
That I would take a piece of you with me
Until we are again united in empyrean glory.
That archangels in the vast heavens
With golden pens in giant books,
Would write our story.
That I would never be afraid to
Tell you that I need you, and can’t live without you;
That I would tell you I love you,
And you say, I love you too.
That even the shadow of your contour against the wall
Would cause the earth to quake
And the skies to fall.
That I would bask in the healing light of your aura;
That your ethereal nature would be sensed
Even in your whispers. -
A small black butterfly crossed my path.
I stopped in front of her so she could pass.
On her journey, she came to rest at last,
On a lone willow tree that wept over tall grass,
By a mighty river with water that runs fast;
On the willow tree she moved her wings gracefully,
Like a seasoned ballerina whose performances are legendary.
From a distance, I admired her beauty,
Then she took off suddenly
And flew over the river beautifully.
Safe travels on your journey black beauty;
Butterfly, I hope you remember me.
