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Literature Text
An Angel's tears fell to the Earth,
to cure my wounded soul.
They flowed inside my broken heart,
and filled the empty hole.
They seeped into my hungry veins,
and healed my aching spirit.
The love within, I feel again,
though I was always near it.
Where does a broken mans' spirit go,
when he has no love to give?
It returns to a place of long ago,
where it finds the will to live.
In the end, we each must live,
as our mothers prayed we would:
With strength and love, and our God above,
--we must each do the other good.
My soul can never be the same,
its' innocence is lost.
The Fall from Grace has healed the wound,
--but oh, the final cost.
to cure my wounded soul.
They flowed inside my broken heart,
and filled the empty hole.
They seeped into my hungry veins,
and healed my aching spirit.
The love within, I feel again,
though I was always near it.
Where does a broken mans' spirit go,
when he has no love to give?
It returns to a place of long ago,
where it finds the will to live.
In the end, we each must live,
as our mothers prayed we would:
With strength and love, and our God above,
--we must each do the other good.
My soul can never be the same,
its' innocence is lost.
The Fall from Grace has healed the wound,
--but oh, the final cost.
Another in the series I wrote to my ex-finacee and first love. It ties in with others I have published. This was the first one I wrote after many years of forgetting. It is the most important one to me I think.
© 2010 - 2024 Questingpoet
Comments18
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The "Angels" in the first line should be a possessive. But otherwise very nice, and quite touching.