I free my heart from this decaying shell,
To soar and seek the love I once possessed,
But butchered by my blind desires.
I free my thoughts from this corrupted mind,
To take release, and by release, to cleanse them
Of their sordid lies.
How can it be, that by this short and lightless path,
Through forests thick with foul regret,
My failures find their peaceful grave?
Can it be that love is that eternal?
That it's loss may only be a fleeting thing,
That yet, may be reborn upon this bed of wasted years?
Shall it be that love's sweet smiles,
And longing's warm caresses
May be adorned with Phoenix feathers?
Is it true, that death shall serve up pure forgiveness,
That I may see the light shine in those eyes again?
If this is so, then death, I welcome you,
But chide you for your slothfulness!!
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Owain Glyn
