A Heaven In Hell
I was struck, awed - it was so appealing to the eye - by a
Chinese painting of a charming couple in a paradise, of flowers, birds,
butterflies, willow trees, sunshine, ... but now, I think that’s but a petty love.
It was too easy, too nothing at all as there was no “despite”, “against”
something seriously. I’d rather paint a paradise of lovers in hell.
Heaven is where my lover is, even in hell. Without my
lover, even heaven is hell.
So a lover would say, assert.
So a lover would say, assert.
But it could also be said of a loving mother and her little
children.
I needn’t tell you any more. That’s sufficient, clear.
But though superfluous, yet to help, stir your imagination
...
Just picture me enjoy, care about the most delicious foods,
the most precious wines, beers, honey, nectar, the most beautiful operas,
symphonies, oratorios, paintings, the most beautiful lakes, woods, mountains,
valleys, scenes, ... yet I even more care, enjoy, her being near, beside me
at those moments.
And she would stay with me despite my growing into an old
scarecrow staying with me in a little old leaking cottage, or it might be a
shed, sleeping on a rickety couch, eating the simplest cold fares, though dark,
... Where she was, even in hell, - she
might be an old scarecrow like me – there was light, warmth, there was heaven.
April 2013
This is my book. You can read it.
No comments:
Post a Comment