A Young Man's Sorrow
With heavy eyes and a hallowed heart,
A young man crows at the ivory moon.
Like a skipping record scarred by strife,
He tightens and loosens an angry fist,
Focused on the faint outline
Still etched upon his left, ring finger.
Alone, he stands on the Hollywood hilltop,
Flickering in the lights of Los Angeles.
Recalling her image, voice and touch,
Butterflies fluttered inside his stomach,
Twisting his gut like a medieval vice.
A thousand teardrops fell by moonlight
And vanished within dehydrated earth.
He aimlessly paced atop foliage and brush.
Trusting the power inherent in prayer,
He pleaded with his creator,
Imploring the Lord to extinguish his pain.
Please, he begged.
One last embrace.
One last chance to kiss and dance.
We were in love. Our dreams were like gold.
But now, I see blanketing shadows.
The sky is clad with countless crows.
I fear the sun is wilting fast.
Please, he begged.
One last chance to kiss and dance.
Forged in dissent, frown lines did carve
Canyons across his placid face.
The young man inhaled
And like clockwork released
A cacophonous cry for salvation.
Fraught with emotion, logic, and faith,
His bellows were echoed across the city,
Resonating through steel and wood,
The lord was moved to grant his repreive.
Divine intervention set foot on the hilltop.
His departed wife finally awoke.
Although her flesh was unattached,
Her spirit was free and unfettered.
One with God, empathic and kind,
She felt his wrenching sorrow.
She cloaked his body with a warm embrace
And commanded Mother Nature to heed her word.
Please shape his sky with clear blue love
And banish building storms.
Please fill his lungs with fragrant air
And mask what death records.
Please kiss his lips with joyous thought
And circle his soul with light.
Please dance with him, the leaves, and wind
And hold him close tonight.
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