A Love Letter to Daniel, in Death

My love is poignant in its pain:

knows neither temper nor restraint.

My flights of fancy, most unyielding,

still are flying, still are shielding

my unfirm and flighty mind

from the truth.

You were ever consolation;

reality's amelioration.

In my unfirm and flighty mind,

you were good, you were kind,

all of this bespeaking

of my youth.

In the green and sunny dell,

I count the trees I knew so well,

all the branches 'round me whisp'ring,

"Daniel, Daniel,"

ever whisp'ring,

to remind me I shall never

taste your fruit.

In the silence of the glen,

the lonely question echoes, "When?"

all the trees no longer growing

and around me it is snowing

as I kneel beside your tombstone.

It reads truth.

And the snow so softly falling,

all around me it is falling

in a rain of diamonds falling,

softly falling,

ever falling.

I am perpetually falling

beside you.

But for my imagination,

eternal Death's damnation

will not claim you ere tomorrow-

so I stay my constant sorrow

'til tomorrow,

'til tomorrow.

So forever I am kneeling,

to your frozen corpse appealing,

"Who are you?

What is truth?'