Walkin on Air
Sacrificial Grace
Unbearable pain I caused myself
made my life go wrong:
shapes my broken heart to fit her broken love
given from Heaven; it now despairs in Hell
of flaming jealousy lit by my infidelity.
Our daughter omits childhood.
Who was I to betray their trust?
Every minute, every hour feels the same,
I can get no relief!
Every one of my blessings whittle away in guilt:
gone as wood-chips to the wind;
I gave them pain instead of love.
Who ever won an argument, or a fight?
I kiss the head and hold the hands of our child
imagining it's her mother's face and body,
but all I see is the epitaph on the gravestone of our love:
‘The sweet savor remains to taunt; she is gone!'
Her faith I deceived like dust to the breeze;
we roam into stunted futures
squatting on the curb of life
watching time pass by,
wafted on sensuous memories of satisfaction.
I know what I did, but why I cannot tell:
what I did, I did in depth of Torture
from lost direction and purpose;
what is sacrifice? Is it to let love bleed
into the emptiness of cold hearts?
How to come back from the fire of jealousy
to once again quaff the showers of happiness?
Is her love depleted and cannot forgive,
must I live with the death of love?
Could I but change time and go back…
Yet, it is the future that counts:
what I do today might it make a difference?
Sacrificing my pride and just asking her to forgive
do I have enough warmth of desire to do?
Would I survive on the leftover residue
of her rose-petal skin and sunrise smile?
Scintillating traces of touch exhilarate
agonizing flashbacks that ravage
my synaptic groundreality,
is that what I sacrificed; was it but gratification
or worse: happiness in old age
to share with family?
made my life go wrong:
shapes my broken heart to fit her broken love
given from Heaven; it now despairs in Hell
of flaming jealousy lit by my infidelity.
Our daughter omits childhood.
Who was I to betray their trust?
Every minute, every hour feels the same,
I can get no relief!
Every one of my blessings whittle away in guilt:
gone as wood-chips to the wind;
I gave them pain instead of love.
Who ever won an argument, or a fight?
I kiss the head and hold the hands of our child
imagining it's her mother's face and body,
but all I see is the epitaph on the gravestone of our love:
‘The sweet savor remains to taunt; she is gone!'
Her faith I deceived like dust to the breeze;
we roam into stunted futures
squatting on the curb of life
watching time pass by,
wafted on sensuous memories of satisfaction.
I know what I did, but why I cannot tell:
what I did, I did in depth of Torture
from lost direction and purpose;
what is sacrifice? Is it to let love bleed
into the emptiness of cold hearts?
How to come back from the fire of jealousy
to once again quaff the showers of happiness?
Is her love depleted and cannot forgive,
must I live with the death of love?
Could I but change time and go back…
Yet, it is the future that counts:
what I do today might it make a difference?
Sacrificing my pride and just asking her to forgive
do I have enough warmth of desire to do?
Would I survive on the leftover residue
of her rose-petal skin and sunrise smile?
Scintillating traces of touch exhilarate
agonizing flashbacks that ravage
my synaptic groundreality,
is that what I sacrificed; was it but gratification
or worse: happiness in old age
to share with family?
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Sacrificial Grace
Sacrificial Grace