|
You appeared to me |
|
Like rain |
|
After a dry spell |
|
Like growth |
|
After a hard year |
|
Like life |
|
After death |
|
And it had been so long |
|
Yet my eye could discern |
|
Less beauty |
|
In its object |
|
Than my memory maintained |
|
So I whispered to myself |
|
"All is but illusion |
|
You did well to love him |
|
It gave you songs to write |
|
And kept you safe" |
|
And with a sigh of relief |
|
I let you go |
|
But you would not go |
|
For you came to me |
|
In the air about you |
|
And you walked with me |
|
From the other side |
|
Of town |
|
And you touched me |
|
With your hands |
|
Behind your back |
|
So I whispered to myself |
|
"All is but illusion |
|
You were wise to look closer |
|
You have lost nothing |
|
Only exchanged a face for a soul |
|
Whatever happens now |
|
You have been Constant |
|
And let no one say |
|
You never loved" |
