I read somewhere that this: I read somewhere that this planet hosts several thousand documentable languages. If I knew them all, I still would not have sufficient words to praise the verbal artistry of your Poetry.
Thank you for the comment as: Thank you for the comment as it is appreciated :) I understand what you mean about the ending, because I am reworking it at ther moment and will update when ready :)
Thank you for your radiant: Thank you for your radiant insights into my intent and word choices. You always unearth the precise meaning of my expressions, and that is always a deeply gratifying experience.
Always an honor.
While this is a poem from: While this is a poem from which all readers can receive benefits, this is a poem that will most minister to those who have experienced the loss of "sixty-some summers." (The number is not literal.) I thought I had lost sixty-three summers. Then I remembered what the Thief on the Cross asked of Jesus, at a waning moment, when the Cross's dire work on Jesus' body was at its peak of acceleration, and the Romans would soon be approaching to break the thief's legs. The thief asked to be remembered. And we know how Jesus answered him (Luke 23).
The loss "sixty-some summers" (a brilliant phrase) is answered by remembrance. I speak from practical experience. The remembering cannot be like cheap tourism. The remembering must seek patterns, connections, and parallels---aspects once hidden to us, but now revealed by experiential wisdom.
She writes " it’s now so comically clear . . ." And comedy need not mean zany slapstick, or stand-up dirty jokes, but the austere Comedy meant by Dante when he named his long poem, Comedia. The cosmic reach of remembering "sixty-some summers" is no less dramatic and salvific than the three huge Canticles written by the great Italian.
Although the last two lines: Although the last two lines fail abruptly by striving for a rhyme that is not, in fact, achieved . . . this is still one of the MOST BRILLIANT love poems I have ever read here!
Your poem crackles with: Your poem crackles with promise and possibility; every line feels like an invitation to soar. We (the readers) can almost hear the cheers and feel the rush of electricity as you beckon us toward stardom. Thank you for reminding us that all it takes is a little leap of faith to turn dreams into legendary adventures.
It is a heavy metal/horror: It is a heavy metal/horror project called Bon Ouija. trying to get some volunteer talent together and make a youtube video. will see where it goes from there.