Outside from the distant wash
From multiple pairs of eyes, looking overhead,
He kisses a cathedral’s walls as paper
With ink that ran from his fingers.
He still wrote the note,
Sung aloud the memorial
During the pain that brought it higher,
For peace that brought him highest
To a mountain he could not come down –
To repeat words beyond the farewell.
If love has a singular image,
He had adorned it
In all clashes of spring with autumn,
Within all scenery of newness and decay
Where roots spread, as pain cannot remain.
He left those tears around the trees,
Sprouting blooms of joy from the seeds.
He left an ornate smile,
Tragic for eyes bleeding for Heaven,
Yet beautiful for hearts, everlasting on a path –
That grows on all sides
The youth he also left behind.
To autumn’s child, the spring of renewal, –
Enter teardrops into Heaven,
Same with the flesh
Towards the skies that blanket death.
There is hope upon this mile
Drawn to be seen, illuminated by a smile.