My greatest folly of late:
to take as a complaint
or worse, as blame
your opening your heart to me
trying to find the tree in me

Florence Harrison

upon which to lean.
Oh the amount of tears
that I once poured over that prayer!

Now I truly am the ocean
that sings to you,
the rose perfuming your path,
everything I ever prayed for and thought impossible.

Let me then be worthy
of my title, Your Wife.
Let me tread gently around you
Let my prayers surround you
May my thoughts of you
be pure and loving
May I touch you
as I would a magical being;
our love came into being because of magic
granted, I did not know of its deadline
but even this bitterness,
let it be transformed
and the despair and resentment and anger.
God must know what he is doing
and our secret kisses, deeds, sacrifices
are sealed into my innermost being for eternities.

My brave husband,
standing at the brink of death,
your eyes mirrors to where I cannot come,
raw destiny
where all lights must be extinguished

How you must now cherish
the light of day,
the firelight, the sun's rays,
the light of knowing, of being.
It could only be the strongest,
most humble heart
that can bear such knowledge.
Who is this that God gave me?
What is this heart that does not break
under the burden of such responsibility, such grief?
The threat of all your life
coming to nothing, a waste?

Rogello Egusquiza y Barrena,

Tristan and Isolde

Yet it is not a waste.
I have been known by you.
I have been loved by you.
I, the unlovable one.
You gave me a hope and a purpose
an indescribable love
Even if it shall all be taken away:
no new mornings
no joy or peace
no heavenly flowers
no light that holds any meaning for me
I stand here,
with you,
at the brink of death,
trying hard to hear
the silver bells of hope
yet looking into the disappearance of my own life.
My soul is intertwined with yours;
there are no other paths
and I regret not one step.

Every step is a prayer,
every breath, every tear.
Where once words were,

John Bauer

are now only withered flowers,
where fire was,
numb emptiness.
My little joy,
I knew you were like a dancer:
when not dancing,
just a nameless passerby in the snow.

Now we are fighting fate,
destiny, fighting time,
fighting to remember your voice,
to love every second;

fighting to hold your hand
through dimensions, eternities
to recognize the imprint of your soul
through lifetimes,
through the deep sleep and dream of perception.

Willy Pogány

The sun does not reach,
frost does not thaw,
there are no reunions,
no well wishes,
no spring day,
gentle breeze,
no sighs of relief,
nor encouraging smiles,
where you are not.

Where you are,
I have two gates.
One for hell, and one for heaven.
If I am asleep, I have no choice
it is hell every time
and the beauty of pleasure and opportunity
turns into ashes and black dust quickly.

But sometimes when my heart is carried
on a strong invisible wind
the choice is not difficult to make.
As soon as I reach for the gate of heaven
the light which reaches back
is exceedingly bright.

Who will remember you,

if not your wife?

Cook for you,

gather flowers for you,

sing you a song,

listen to your dreams,

laugh with you,

pray for you?

Who else will hold your hand?

God will;

but when God has given you

a hundred days to live,

your burden,

the depth of despair

cannot be known even by your wife.

You have been plunged

into a fiery trial;

your wife will follow you,

carrying the light for you

being quiet of her own pain,

icy loneliness, the door of

opportunity

already closing shut.

Christian Schloe, The Rose Garden

Everything else falls away:

comforts, silly thoughts, outbursts

of empty emotion.

There are only

frosty quiet mornings

your hands holding mine tight

your earnest look of not knowing how or where

your tears that frighten me

endless prayers for mercy

your sorrowful eyes, oh how sorrowful

and an infinite, consuming love.

Love is not

happiness

nor flowers

not dancing

or sunsets

not long letters,

holding hands, laughing together

or receiving many guests.

Love is

waiting by the empty ocean

sowing seeds in a frozen field

asking for a hundred thousand times

without response

traveling in arid desperate darkness

losing the favour of angels

giving without the wish to receive

For love possesses only 

hope, faith and strength

in the deepest night

it is at its most beautiful.

Caspar David Friedrich,
Monk by the Sea

For You, There Is Only Love

Today is the best day of my life
because my dream is still true
where you come home
and your presence and words and footsteps

Frederick Burton,
Meeting on the Turret Stairs

fill this house

Because we are still surrounded
by bright hopes
and our eyes laugh
I can take your hands
any time
and their touch is light

Because the days are like little funny birds
and the nights distant gentle music
where nothing is broken

where we are still touching God's fingertips,
it seems

Today is the best day of my life
because you are still here
and I can still choose
more love
and less fear.