The Wanderer

The Wanderer

In the days before I wandered,
when I called this place my home
I found you in the open field, your heart content to roam.

At once I knew, that which I sought
eyes opened, finally seeing
Truth only known through intuit;
this lightness of your being.

What beauty in your gentle grace!
Your calm repose a sign,
Of holy flame that burned within,
The first and last to shine.

For I had often wondered
when I called this place my home,
if broken hearts were all who sought
the great, if yet unknown.

Yet here stood grace,
a gentle face
where time did not reside.
Somehow I knew
that it was you,
who fans this flame inside.

And all at once, the walls came down
with every answer love had found.
No sooner had I met you here
Thyne inhibitions disappeared.
Whence all unfounded thought hence cleared.
Once piled high with fear;
In times when I had called this place my home.

"As freely we receive" you said,
"So freely we shall give.
May righteous acts make straight our paths,
and feed this will to live."

So day by day we traveled,
though our course remained unknown.
Contentment found within the One
who'd reap what we had sown.

And fire burned in kindred soul,
as we let light from heaven glow
for all the earth to see and know
thy kingdom was within.

And so through waters yet uncharted,
Would our soul as one embark.
Each following the other
fearing nothing of the dark.

And through each day amidst such pain
my name did you defend.
Our love shined like a beacon
through the night til bitter end.

At night I’d dream the gates had opened!
The elect were called back home!
And there, I found myself in mourning
Soul divided and alone.

Though your spirit never left my side
It guides me still ahead

For love once confined to heaven’s realm,
Falls unto me instead.

Now if torment could be measured
kin to grandeur of the sea,
Then the leagues of star-crossed heartbreak would
reveal what's left of thee.
Claiming nothing from the pages that have turned unto this place
Wherein judgement shrouds her beauty
as a veil to hide her face.

“Cometh unto me my love!”
Her whispers carry to the Sun

“How long must I be kept away
Before thy will be done?”

Alas, she knew not what she asked
as knowing swept her up.
For only grief before the banquet
finds who drinketh of this cup.
Her sorrow grew, the more she knew.
Her heart was made to lend,
so grounded in their life she dwelt,
too broken to ascend.