The ancient mists await
With chilled fingers to encompass, surround, and
Enshroud souls departed from the sunshine each has known.
And yet how clever are these mists, their rains and
Rivers from which lives and beauties are reborn –
For they maintain the blooms, the flowers,
The promise of all the Gods
That dawn is never far away.
The ancient mists
Chill the chambers of Valhalla, Olympus, the Holy Sepulcher –
Where lie departed souls – and spirits wait, banished,
Alone, saddened. Where stilled hearts recall the warmth of youth
And beauties known in halcyon days,
Souls only sense the flowers – the pristine touch of all the Gods –
Yet pray for blessing of Eternal Dawn,
Begging it be but cosmic hour away.
The ancient mists –
In frugal moment, cloak discarded, reveal
To chosen souls those spirits loved in other times –
Absent in Eternity till now – and suddenly
In sunlight, freshness blooms to sense once more
The morning dew, to feel the nurturing droplets which
Settle upon meadows as life renews again,
And dawn – with warming sun – returns.
Then ancient mists
Forever lift as souls and hearts rejoin in Beauty,
Alive once more to feel, to love
In Sunshine borne of youth – freed at last
Of coldness and of chill.
New flowers – fresh – alive in ancient soil washed by hallowed streams –
Welcome morning’s dew and dawn –
Embrace of warming sun, of love, and Destiny.
And there, my love,
‘Tis you I’ll find just next to me!
As sunlight warms the air, may your petals spread –
Reveal your heart, its beauty, and its glow
For me to know – again!
Utter then with me this final prayer –
That such Eternal Glories