THE SICKNESS OF THE SOUL
The sickness of the soul, It makes love to me. From time to time I feel it in the air I breathe, in the wind that whips my face, in the words I speak and in my eyes by sorrow veiled.
I walk the walk of the dead yet I am deprived of the pleasure of sleep let alone death. I move like a phantom in the dark of the murk that lies in my soul.
I never lifted a hand to you, I never asked of anything from you, but by my shoulders you seized me, plucked my tainted heart and left me with nothing.
I was not stupid to have let you come this far. I was not asleep when you thought of leaving me. Who can I now hold responsible for this loss to my soul?
Love found me, took me up in its miracle, and left me to fall.
I had a taste of heaven and now I have to settle than I had.
I was sick, now I am dead. love must have it so.
But before I leave you, my wandering one, I beg one thing of you;
Do not throw the treasures of my heart into a sea of common things.
You craved them and I, foolishly threw away the essence of my being on a whim. Heaven help me Patrick, please, do not.
I would have asked for them. I wold have fought for them had i the strength to do so, but love makes me weak. love suppresses the spirit that binds me.
My mind speaks of mutiny, but it knows that it has to liaise with the rest of me. Please keep them. If you must in a dust ridden corner of your soul, but keep them,more for the sake of the promises you made me and never intended to keep. Do not make me a common thing.
So I write to the world. You will never know of my love for this man even if Angels were sent down to spell it out. I will only say it is enough to let him go and to thank God for the time I had, however brief.
If you meet a Patrick, or a Michael, If you come across the name lorein on the numerous journals I leave behind. Tell him I truly did love him. Tell him that it matters not to me where he goes or who he is with. The door is shut
and the world swallowed the key.
If he is with you, please, take care of him. Tell him so.