The Question

A question with an answer that is not so easily found:

“How long will you love me, how long will your heart be bound

unto mine by strings of passion that may never break nor bend?”

What say you may she ask, “ When is it that your love will end?”?

 

The answer, I concede, first seemed impossible to reach,

n’er to be encompassed, by the means of pen or speech.

Since love is immaterial, not a token one can lend,

I concluded hence, with ignorance, that love can never end.

 

Time found my plea erroneous, Hark! what brought forth my mistake,

were trails of love that found my heart, and trials that made it break.

And where forth be the difference, ‘twixt a soul mate and a friend,

be it not the length of time with which their love comes to an end?

 

For a lifetime and an hour, o’er this question did I pine,

‘til at long last, without repast, I feel I might define,

if not the temporal trinkets that the human heart defend,

then at least the circumstances, by which my love will end:

 

When that earth our feet doth fall upon, and that sky above our hair,

reverse, so that, whilst underground, I tread upon the air,

and while I walk, I conversate, with Eagle, Dove, and Wren:

Our final kiss, for dearest, this, is when my love will end.

 

When the brittle flakes of ice that fall upon my brow and breast,

burn hotter than the love that sears the soul within my chest.

When the Heav’nly orb spits rays of frost, and flames compose the Thames:

But reminisce, for darling, this, is when my love will end.

 

When my soul, itself a half, finds better refuge than thy heart,

and my heart may still suffice with such an insufficient part,

then my lips will speak the words penned by this solemn repetend.

Though naught, I pray, this is the day, Lo! when my love will end.

 

When heaven and her occupants, they care for us no more,

and life and love are washed away, like sands upon the shore.

When the soul-less, heart-less demons love thou more than I do, then,

the earth will quake, as God forsake, and then my love will end.

 

And when the end of love means you are all I’ll ever need,

and you and I will conquer death, and live eternally,

and love like there is nothing else, nor has there ever been,

then the instant whence I saw you, that is when my love did end.

Author's Note

Your wisdom, please.

Reviews

[Pryde Foltz]

First off, don't care what anyone else says, long live the rhyme and I love the way you do it.

My thoughts on love ending are found in Love Laid to Rest. (Yeah, I'm flogging my own work. lol) But if it is real, not lust; don't expect love to go anywhere. The heartache, however, will lessen. And when the pain dims, why would you want the love to go, anyway. It glows in your heart proof of a soul.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Another classic and intellegent piece written in near technical perfection. A question upermost in my thinking right now.

[Keith]

I think Trimarco said it all, great piece.

[TrimarcoRansome]

The most beautifully penned poem I have yet read on this site. What a breath of fresh air! Beautifully mature use of words with an Old English feel to it, which is quite rare to capture in the way you have here. Quite stunning!!

[Meesh]

Well thank you very much! I love words and enjoy searching for the perfect one for each situation. I'm glad you like it!

[TrimarcoRansome]

You do it very well, keep them coming, I look forward to more!