I was searching for that emptiness in my soul —
that hollow ache, the dream of funerals —
but something of your smile is there instead,
quickening my heart, sequestering my head;
so that emptiness is drowned by love and joy,
and the dream I doubted was this precious boy.
Your smile — simple, sweet, something I have sought for;
my heart, my head — they cherish you all the more,
drowning all the pains that now have passed,
doubting only that our love could be surpassed.
Something in your being has taken of me hold,
cherishing you who stands so steadfast, my stronghold.
The pains we suffer make salvation great;
our love unyielding seems never to abate.
Your being, unto mine, can be no greater sanctum.
You, whose love is absolute — as if by holy dictum —
suffer as much as I, for our uncertain future
yields possibilities unnumbered; so, unsure
of greater plans or paths unerring in direction,
our absolution metes with time, grand disillusion (dissolution).