Literature
Beyond the Fallen
Morning dove, oh, fly into spring with love
must my mind trick me so, to never know?
What is that thing we care not say nor dare
never dream to be alone? Only bones
of death fallen away do not see day
break on heaven's mighty flame. All to take,
yet never to give. Truly! Selfish blade
stained with sorrow, a land burnt and fallow.
Sadness for a peace now shallow, gone off
on wings that sing forever, hope that brings
tomorrow. Please, do visit when the dawn
awakes again, and feathers bend back
for home once more. Yes, that is my heart's lore,
to watch with dreaming eyes as sorry lies
burn and form. For what course will let me learn
and grow into that destined want? So, show
me more! Both dark and light, frightful and good,
life and death! Oh, carry me, dove of love!
Never could I see it all as I fall,
yet I know I will try to fly alone.
