Mad Is The Heart of Love

There was a time for tears and thought,

when the weft of my hope was torn,

and my weave of braided dreams unraveled.

I, who followed then the wrong path,

wander weak and blind as a spirit crippled by pain,

with a mind not too deep to unravel truths unseen,

nor so swift to change the path of my feet.

The purest of hearts which

ever the wandering sun has touched,

or the star eyed splendor of the night gazed upon,

still bleeds for me.

So let me cry forever, extinguish the flame,
 
and not want for Time, “The Lifter of The Veil.”

Fill this emptiness inside my chest,

and loose this iron knot of Fate.

For this anguish presses soon nor late,

and the voice of living waters will never cease.

No music now—save the sorrow. An angry sound,

slow swelling, like God's thunder underground.

I weep into the river, and each tear gleams a drop 

into the wave, and still, all life that is wild and young

in mountain and wave, all that earth is sprung or breathes

in the red sunbeam...is she.

Mad is the heart of love, she sought it, my heart, my tears.

Aye, then let it be driven far into the wilds and the night,

for her breath is on all that has life.

Yet, her heart is also dying in the white heart

of the fire, and I who follow the wrong road,

will now leave it and be wise, go naked into the light,

and face You....Eternity.