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LE SOIREE NOIR
(The Dark Soiree)
Come to me! My cry of agony rings out,
Flying on the wind and smoldering on the fire ?f yesterdays burnt-out love.
No more the joy, the peace, the silent dire Which brings me singing from my pillow couch
To chase Diana. Tis dying, 'tis dead, not interred yet. Oh God, please help me to forget
What once was mine, but is no more.
Returning to awareness, I heard a voice which said,
?Let not your heart be troubled,? and only then Did I recall the times you came to me at rest,
To comfort and be comforted in gentle sleep.
SILENCE
When the time comes, as I am sure it will,
That words, which cascade joyously between us now, As though only a moment remains, will slow to near silence. A silence which glows with the softness of pearls, bringing peace.
There will be no sadness in such mute moments.
On joy, blessed joy! for the oneness of thought,
That brings a stillness to the turbulent heart.
Golden expressions which are purchased for naught.