Free

Heavy garments
Laden with rain,
Dripping 
With the tearful stain
Of frightful tomorrows.
Why is it
That I frown the future
And so disdain the present
As to think
That I am bound 
To someone else's fears?
I am not - thank God!
For he has made me free
To bound upon the meadow grass
When the morning's first dew
Has laden it with freshness!
He has borne me unto wistful musings.
He has breathed new life 
Where once the grief
Of sacrifice
Pressed and crushed me down
And tried to squeeze
Not just the hope
But life itself
Out of me.
And now I'm free.
And I do not bear the burden 
Of the thing that you call time,
Accept in that one place
Where our two worlds meet.
There I come 
To touch you with the thing I am
The thing He's made of me,
But that, only for a moment
After which I flee
Back to this place 
Where there is space
To contemplate 
The reality 
That does not bind itself down
With weighty fictions.
And here there springs to life
The hope of all that is fanciful,
All that is real,
All that entreats.
Come with me.
How long will you linger
In the burden of
Your own defeat?
"But I am not defeated yet!" you say.
Very well.
Have it your way.
But I will miss you
While you seek
Far and wide,
And strive toward some end 
That you deem right
And ruin yourself
To unseen things
And revel 
In your glory.
See it through if you must,
And then
When you've wasted away
And grown weak,
When your eyes are dim
And your voice too pale
To speak,
Remember me
And come to me upon the wind
That whisks away the ungrateful
And if you're not too busy then,
Come kiss me
And remind me of the days 
Before ambition
Stole you from me.
And if you do,
Then you will finally be free.
And together, 
Hand in hand,
We'll bound upon the meadow grass
When the dew still clings 
To the leaf,
And dream of all the things that be
Just beyond forgotten tomorrows,
And exchange our heavy garments
For light ones.
And far into the misty sea of reality
We'll fly upon their wings.
Until then,
Fairwell my friend.
I love you.
I miss you. 
​Always,
Me