The Last hour she spent on this Earth,
Some one to speak of her suffering.
Of how no one understood her, how no one would care
her face reminds me yet of gentle grace,
divinity within, and speaker of sweet nothings
who plays me like her puppet held by invisible strings.
She pains and my tears know it
my life one with her and the Heavens know it
Verily, I drink from the spring of her eternal youth
intoxicated I stand, her images hung around me like a noose