Spirit and Dove This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

November 2, 2009
Ah, let me away from this
splendor, bid me farewell and
goodnight, to this sweet prince,
always, for all nights,
and all days, enemies and friends.

And do not let the clouds
shed their tears on my morning,
for mourning has tears enough,
shade me, spare me, for this day is glad,
raindrops are not the tools to make amends.

Oh, what memories are, shared
from eye to eye in silent stardom,
spoken and unbroken, spoken
again, quite a beautiful token,
in a life for one to spend.

How does one part, rightly
unsure? Where
light leads to light, way to way,
over traverse and river,
lion hearts and angel dens?

Lo, wearily with grace,
to walk is to know and
to my side, seraphim, the
other, spirit and dove,
and water to cleanse.

Fear not, for thyself
in vain, the absolute
form of love is pain,
the journey begins, for you,
for I, for all men.

Alas, such flourish is
calling, and wings are
gifts not spent unwisely,
and knowest I, the shepherd,
to leave the flock to which I tend.

Yes, let me fade, fade
beneath the worldly woe
to the separate dream, heaven
in hopes, and do not cry,
for though I die, death does not mean the end.

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