I leave you three words, my endless grace
a miracle unshaven face, says I write to give you
Some new to place upon the place. For when I'm dead
Let it be said, the darker dispairs were finally free
free to roam, free to choose to be unhappy bittersweet
no honey in the tea.
I thank the Lord for his embrace that tells of death
A warm thrilling place, which is more than I can be
Yes I am cool, or such like frost, child taken, and wife
Set free, I unbound the knot that held us both, and on
note a leave. The soul of man divorced from love, yet love
Still gets the sting, vanishing like the stinging bee.
Christopher Baird 2011 ©
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