The Golden Deck

I can not waste love on someone who does not love back,
May the stars cut him from my chest so I can be forever free as is he
He attaches himself to loves whom reject, but I, the flesh who wants him, he wants not.
Dust collects, his heart dies slowly-atrophy for me.
In I, this soul, that is not an option you see, my current state of boundary
Yet still love he, I've longed for escape but find it not
Love, even in pain, is the only way I can see he
-his ghost.
Am I a troubled soul? Is he? Aren't we all at times, if not more.
The spiritual scripture tells, blessed are those who suffer For those that suffer feel, live, breathe what is real.
In my mind, the future is not dead, nothing is promised
But can I not dream instead
Of possibility?
Without hope, the heart is sick,
Tired, tired, sleeping
Awake me then, if there's anything left.
But I need the whole, not pretend.
To the future, I drink to that.
If that not be in the hold of God's universe
Then may my Maker tuck me into the bliss of his heavens
Where I live in his peace
I will tread where angels sweep wing on the golden deck.

December 17, 2012 (all rights reserved_KeilaCoateWomack)