The cold kiss of a blade,
The sharpened edge descending
His life, my love, is ending
It’s too late for love my dear.
Sorrows stream down my face,
Endlessly descending, dripping
To land in my lap, silent weeping
For one too good to die.
Desperation rears its dark head,
Unhappy hate is its shadow
Bearing the evergreen meadow,
He cuts away his life.
Pure goodness wells from the wound,
Dripping, slowly seeping, a stain
Is spreading, there is none to heal the pain
And weeping, silently weeping…
Four minutes pass, silence ever after,
He is gone, his heart has beat its last
All words, after this, it is in the past.
My life, my love, my heart.
Gone, beyond Deaths door
Life is dull, grey, bland hereafter
And I reach, rope, for the rafter…
He is gone, we are apart,
Yet not for long…
