AN ODE TO BELLA

AN ODE TO BELLA

She sits in her eyrie, atop her silvery cloud.
Her luminous eyes watching it all.
Staring out, she gives me that wry smile,
Knowing things that we cannot.
Seeing things too far away, to comprehend or understand.
She reaches out to touch my hand,
I cannot reach her in her land, nor see the things that she beholds,
These things are not of silver nor gold, nor riches on which to feast the eyes.
They’re visions of far away places, of worlds born and died,
Galaxies cremated.
Her knowing eyes transfixed in grace,
I know the wonder of her face.
I yearn to understand her thoughts,
the things she sees cannot be bought.
She knows too much to come back here,
The angelic scriptures she recites, takes her closer up to God.
She takes his hand and holds on tight,
She trembles at his power and might.
The touch he gives her makes her shine,
She turns and looks, she’s no longer mine.
He turns to me, I do not mind,
That she has left me far behind.
For sometimes I’m allowed to dwell,
And watch them before I’m returned to hell.
My earthly guise, I must endure,
The memories of her mystic past,
Will stay with me.
The pain the torture will also last,
Until I am no more.