There’s wood-smoke in the air
And leaves are falling
And crows are cawing sadly from afar.
And churchyard doors are open
And graves are bringing memories
From loved ones lost so long ago.
They’re calling, calling sadly from afar,
And yet I know:
No thing is ever lost forever.
No thing is ever lost forever
And no thing gained.
And Happy Ends are only temporary.
And all our lives and struggles
Are just a bar, in major keys or minor,
In the unending symphony of life.
The Lady broods too much, methinks,
AntwortenLöschenas Ever is Love's span of wings,
the breath, the sound of the harp's strings.
Those who are gone, they do rejoice,
merrily wearing a gown of light,
crossing rainbows, shimmering with stars.
Let us now wear this dark and grey November
as we would a soft blanket: one befitting
when rest is needed from duties and leisure.
(I have made an amended version of the above elsewhere - and thanks for the inspiration.)
AntwortenLöschen