a level of emptied disadvantage
calls my mind forward
gallows for the moment
I must somehow lure
such restless images
to trespass
paisley star bursts
behind closed lids though
entertain forced thoughts
into believing everything
will be alright
our love is a champion thoroughbred
its momentum cannot be unhinged
what was meant to happen
will happen
yesterday, now, tomorrow and
ever again
the excavation of a great love
is a monumental love indeed
such force as the world has
all too rarely seen
we are chapters of grace
set in golden columns of worth
The great Taj Mahal itself is
remembered by the world as
a large looming majestic edifice
to such a so particularly
shared love
ours is less worldly opulent
of course
but more blissfully romantic
and pure
innocent as it is
without malice or cunning
bird songs overhead weep joy
their beauty is stunning
The Taj is left behind
for the world to embrace
its idea of love with their eyes
where as
our love is laced
together with words
to be shared between all lovers
currently alive
to hold someone up in death is a
thoughtful but morbid enterprise
what we poets leave in our wake
is beauty without brutality
unlike the masons and slaves alike
who were forced by the prospect of
money or threat
to their lives or livelihoods
to lay the stones
after Mumtaz's swift demise
her husband in his
overwhelming grief
paid out his fortune
and many others blood
to build a temple to her
I want the world to see
how my love lived
just as he does  I
not leave behind a lavish mausoleum
erected in but the memory of his death
for in such a construction
I find the heart misses the point
we as souls go on
so each life lived
its living should be displayed
for others from it to reap joy
not a grand marble hall
depicting its abrupt ending
but hand written notebooks
miles high full of
the very beauty that it is
to have such a love
ending only
with a final love letter ere poem
upon a tear stained page
promising that
I'll see you my love
in a place
where the dawn in our
hearts ever stays
Home with God
in gardens where we
forever while
'The Never Ending Morning Of Life'
(Feb. 26, 2011 906am)


Author's Notes/Comments: 

written for the man who has captured my enchantment and made it his own.


note Mumtaz Mahal, the beloved wife of the Moghul Emperor, Shah Jahan, who died after 14 years of marriage and in whose memory he built the Taj 22 years. She died giving birth to her 14nth child. 

View palewingedpoetess's Full Portfolio