To W.

♦ From my book ‘Nothing But The Rain’ ♦

Tentative nurturer,
Your strength resounds
In life given from heart,
In wisdom taught prolifically
And daringly blessed upon
The newfound soul,
Goddess supremely loved,
With deep flowing rivers
Of warming replenishment,
How can I define in words
The life you so freely
Give to me with each second
Spent held in your arms,
Love denied subtle winds
For far too long before you,
That even to angels the idea
Vanished into forgotten lore,
Lost literature of lost masters,
Life drawn out of lines
By short strung attentions
Too plagued to really feel,
Life became the hollow shell
Of empty faces, strangers
Filed in unfulfilled cabinets,
How could the world exist
When inside these ghosts
Walks the ghost of me,
To darkness and damnation
I slept away the days,
Until through the sheen
Of such wanton horror
Your light paraded within
Frigid bitter shadows,
Until light was forever and eternal,
Every second that passes
In your seraphim presence
Is an infinite adventure
Outlasting the spiteful hold
Of dying deities,
No being, nor universe,
Could hope to out strive
The boundless aeons of each
Humble second I share with you,
Each plainly given to me openly,
Life becomes a gracious gift
When reinstated through you,
How could I not be in awe?
Lover and saviour so sweet
Words would be too discreet
For gracing what you have given,
And I will love you beyond
Words, worlds or time!

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Poem © Phen Weston

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15 thoughts on “To W.

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