Thank God for the Suffering

I still recall the first fullmoon of May, beneath whose rays we lay together. And those bright nights on glassy waves, when we would glide lightly away from the grain, for wicked flights of pleasure. Those visions fade like ghosts to life’s parade. Though incisions once made her so vivid. A scarlet whore with both heels in the door, of a Heaven severed from me, insipid. And midst the writhe of parapets, where angels sigh, lonely she sits. Upon the lip only a slip from whence I beg her. That I would wish, her kiss a chrysalis, to break to make my fluttered heart amiss. And in those frozen moments won, from grief that creeps to wreathe the sun. In drapes inwove with deathshead wing, I thank God for the suffering! Love would have conquered all, but for the rapture. That ancient plan for my defeat, denied faith skies that would have set her free. It seems again dreams wend to capture. Once dancing in a spotlit waltz through a shadowed dimension. Given to the rivers that bedizened her eyes. The world drifted by in lost momentum. With no divine intervention! Regardless that the author of sin was me and I. Lay chaste of hate in faith’s embrace, as mortals warred with more besides. They warred with life itself! And in those frozen moments won, from grief that creeps to wreathe the sun. In drapes inwove with deathshead wing, I thank God for the suffering! And I thank God for the suffering As still I burn for her return, I would make my peace with everything. I still recall, the first fullmoon of May, consigned to flames like secret letters. And midst the writhe of parapets, where angels sigh, lonely she sits. Upon the lip only a slip from whence I beg her. That I would wish, her kiss a chrysalis, to break to make my fluttered heart amiss. And in those frozen moments won, from grief that creeps to wreathe the sun. In drapes inwove with deathshead wing, I thank God for the suffering! Love would have conquered all, were we not parted. Her splintered loss rekindles rage, the winter frost dwindles across my stage. Lit up once more to score finales started. Love would have conquered all! Love would have conquered hate! And in those frozen moments won, from grief that creeps to wreathe the sun. In drapes inwove with deathshead wing, I thank God for the suffering!