Oh Lord the world has slipped in between us again,
I try to heave it away
But tis your hand that moves
Me closer to you
Not mine.
And your hand seems to be not moving me today.
My heart is calling to you, my Love.
Will you not answer?
Oh silent Love
Do not close your lips to me forever.
Okay; be silent then.
I shall not fight it.
I will rest my ear against your quiet.
I will sing of my love for you.
I will marvel at the works of your hand.
I will praise and glorify you.
I will thank you with grateful sighing
And lie down hungry , in wait. I will be filled.
I will be like a faithful dog
I will sit parched;
I will be quenched.
Did you think I would skulk away?
I nearly did.
Were my love in a coma unable to speak
Would I turn and leave?
I would not!
Does love end when the mouth of the lover closes its final time?
When the last exhale is embraced by the air
Of a room thick with ebony emotions?
I think not!
I wipe the spittle from your mouth
When your own fingers falter.
I bend and bring the bluebells
Gathering the garden to you
When you are bed bound.
I bathe you and tenderly brush your hair
When your limbs lie limp, unable to do.
Oh that I would see you everywhere.
Oh that I would tend to you in everything.
Oh that I would love as you with everyone.
Walking through a head of tendrils green today
I stopped to smell the daisies.
You are so beautiful.
You are the Gardner
And we the garden.
And now you are the Garden
And we the gardners.
How poorly we tend.
I try to heave it away
But tis your hand that moves
Me closer to you
Not mine.
And your hand seems to be not moving me today.
My heart is calling to you, my Love.
Will you not answer?
Oh silent Love
Do not close your lips to me forever.
Okay; be silent then.
I shall not fight it.
I will rest my ear against your quiet.
I will sing of my love for you.
I will marvel at the works of your hand.
I will praise and glorify you.
I will thank you with grateful sighing
And lie down hungry , in wait. I will be filled.
I will be like a faithful dog
I will sit parched;
I will be quenched.
Did you think I would skulk away?
I nearly did.
Were my love in a coma unable to speak
Would I turn and leave?
I would not!
Does love end when the mouth of the lover closes its final time?
When the last exhale is embraced by the air
Of a room thick with ebony emotions?
I think not!
I wipe the spittle from your mouth
When your own fingers falter.
I bend and bring the bluebells
Gathering the garden to you
When you are bed bound.
I bathe you and tenderly brush your hair
When your limbs lie limp, unable to do.
Oh that I would see you everywhere.
Oh that I would tend to you in everything.
Oh that I would love as you with everyone.
Walking through a head of tendrils green today
I stopped to smell the daisies.
You are so beautiful.
You are the Gardner
And we the garden.
And now you are the Garden
And we the gardners.
How poorly we tend.
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