|From the book The Wild Rose
|Legends and Fantasies
(1976 - 1978)
The Nun’s Funeral
|Like the dark, gold frame
of an indescribable painting,
where the night alone, an intertwined anagram,
is full with an immense name –
thus it was, and she was lying
with her face like a loose veil,
and in the hard gold love was portraying
that everyone belonged to her.
Not undetstanding, how to continue,
changing, on sight,
we suddenly knew, etched out of
the darkness and singing, that she was in the garden.
Where the living heart would some day enter,
there sifting through the garden of dreams and favouring it,
she takes across the attention of happiness
like the beam of a hand-held lantern.