Selections from Words Cannot Reach

[CharmingCavalier 2189]

Selections from Words Cannot Reach

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Penned in 1818 IST by Henry Penton

Originally Published 1819 IST. Publicly Published in 1844IST.

 

 

Dear Readers,

 

In this year of 1814, it seems as if death has gripped our homes. Many have lost family and friends as they passed into the Seven Skies. The sad reality is, however, that this year is not unlike the past or the future. Grief is an eternal specter haunting our perishable time.

 

Yet, this author has realized over the passing years that grief is but a two-part process. The first is pain and loss, which drains the delicate nature of our temporal forms. After some time, which this author spent wandering the natural surroundings of Providence, one can remark on life's volatility and brevity.

 

For death is natural, and not a severing of love, but a postponement of closeness. As if one has taken a boat, and you too shall soon follow. On the other side of that ocean awaits for you the happiness of reunification, along with eternal peace.

 

Grief is our unwilling nature to refuse this parting; rather it is abrupt or gradual.

 

Yet, it is with this collection of poems that I wish to remind you of the awaiting pleasure, hoping you too can come to peace with your loss.

 

 

 

 

 

Aengulic Sounds

 

When my godly imbued flame doth quit this mortal frame,

I leave behind worldly strife to pursue a happier life.

 

Slowly I ascend, and I hear the aenguls say,

 

"Harken and attend, our friend from far away."

 

My home receding, it disappears, but holy sounds consume my ears.

 

With that sacred ring, I am lent my blessed wings, and Death has lost its deadly sting.

 

 

 

Our Fair Thespian

Dedicated to Elizaveta, the Wife of a Patron

 

Our hearts this lovely thespian did invade.

Such emotion she forced to flow.

Through what she portrayed, the masses came to know tales from long ago.

 

Villain did appall,

Those who attended her shows

But when the curtain falls, into the night go one and all.

 

So too has the shade fell,

On our actress' life.

No more crowds will swell to examine her in stage strife

 

So I sit inside this garden,

Examining ivy-clad walls,

Thinking of my wife.

 

But when the curtain falls,

Into the night go one and all.

 

 

 

13,440

 

A man that lives to eighty will have seen 13,440 days.

2,520 were in his youth.

In his last 2,500, he was considered old.

That means a man has 8,400 good days to his name.

 

So think about time in this manner, when you look over your planners.

You only have 8,400 good days to spend with those you love before you ascend to GOD above.

 

If you only had 13,400 days to tell someone you love them, would it be enough?

 

It may seem like a lot, but how many days do you have left?

 

 

 

Words Cannot Reach

 

Words can never reach,

Nor any prose of speech.

No words upon a stone or plaque,

Will give you more years.

No writing will bring you back,

I know because I tried...

 

Neither can one million tears,

I know because I've cried.

 

You were so kind to me, when I had first arrived.

Now I find myself of your council deprived.

 

I have made myself your devotee, your legacy shall live on.
It shall remain preeminent, long after I am gone.

 

 

 

 

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