Paint me your face,
Not with stroke of brush
Or quill,
But communing in
Windswept moments
Exhaled from your eyes,
A time when heavy thought
Is put aside,
And yearning souls
Converge as one

Paint me your face,
Not with contrivances
Or bearing,
But with hopeful
Expressions shared
In life’s unending conflict,
A time when
All besetting gloom
Is cast as fragments
Upon a cleansing sea

For if desire finds no dawning,
And longing lightens not a blacking land,
Who would see love as a rare flower fair?
And if two embrace a waning moon before
Sunlight becomes fiery in dawns eruption,
Who then could forfend loves despair?

So, paint me your face,
Not with folly
Or dignity,
But in anticipation of
Goodness, when joy
Supplants all despondence,
A time when
Temporal strife ends,
And all sharing glows in
The haleness of loves true intent

richard lloyd cederberg
1/10
    A Monumental Journey Novels