a POETIC TALE of innocent love, tragic loss, and ultimate hope ...
art: rlc

It’d been many years
Since they’d fluxed together
Hidden away from levering eyes
And the endless flowing judgments
Of embittered men given to destruction

Theirs was
The purest of love
That burst open fragrantly
When it was stirred

She was to him,
In those early years, a
Vision of unsullied pearls
Arrayed on pure black sand,
And he to her a loving protector
Keeping at bay all that threatened,
And both walked the prototypic paths
Hungry to animate their treasured dreams

And between them
Arrant water flowed and,
In the fortress they’d built, many
Memories were (safely hidden) from
The schemes of malefic forces bent on the
Dissemination of loves steadfast bond
~
Hidden
Far above them
A lofty throne sat on a
Vast floor of tessellated crystal
Excelling in splendor and magnificence,
And, roundabout, myriads of ageless Watchers
Assented to the unfeigned beauty of innocent love.
Expressed in all purity these witnesses lauded the giving
Of one’s heart to another in whiteness sincerity and purpose,
So they forged in all hope [together] through every
Challenge placed before them

But the years passed and
Their hearts were weighed down
With all the difficulties of this world

And when he was renounced by her
This shadow of former self came forth
Manipulative,
Despondent,
Embittered,
Garrulous,
Stubborn,
Incapable of intimacy,
Given to substance and salacious intrigues,
A shadow-man creeping his way along defiled paths,
Straining to mollify those for whom he had no deference -
A bankrupted idealist accepting there was little now to
Life other than his failures and wretchedness,
Nothing above, nothing below,
Nothing at all to live for
Nothing but misery
No one to trust
No hope
Nil
O
o
.
.
.

Still,
Far above him,
Was a lofty throne on a
Vast floor of pure tessellated crystal,
Excelling in great splendor and magnificence,
And roundabout this Great Glory, whom no eye
Could behold, ten thousand thousands of everlasting
Watchers were looking down with tears and interceding
For another wounded soul who had lost his way


richard lloyd cederberg