Black Winter

In the silence of a bleeding emptiness,
My visions espouse the enclosed, motionless.

Flowers generate their fervent harmony,
With the ceiling, that serenades a darkened melody.

Soon, mystic chants would caress the silence,
As last thoughts become everlasting moments.

Incense inebriates the awe, with its sweetening rapture,
While the air is shattered with the thought of his departure.

Alone in himself, and alone in his pity,
He succumbed to the most personal liberty.

And left without notice or warning,
Like a bird, that returns in the spring.

And now a void lurks in every caring heart –
Those of us, who cared enough to share a part.

As we offer him our eternal sorrow,
His echoes will pour into every tomorrow.