Angel, said she, where could he be, my lover?
Will he know my face, will we still know each other?
Is he waiting for me? Is he happy to see
that I finally saw him through forever?
I have waited so long, to go where he had gone
I'm excited to see us again, together.
They journeyed long, no word nor song from angel nor her
no answers given, angel not spoken but of tear
angel was speechless, her mind was restless to wonder
cherubim! She shouted, she she she shocked him with what she said
he turned his head and to her said, my name, where did you hear?
That name to me was given by an artist I delivered.
So long that name not spoken and now from you it's heard.
Tell me how you know this name and artist, in the lady's eye, a tear.
“This artist you speak of, was he all of good sort?
Did he speak of love and asked you for your part?
If so he is my lover. If so, he is my heart.”
The angel's head hung lowly, for he tore their love apart
who was he to sunder, wondrous love and art.
The lady then, took angel's hand, and said “you did your part.
Our love is more than life itself, it beats without a heart.”
Now lift up your head, and walk me ahead from this earth
lead me to where my love stands bare in all its worth
you are the hand that mends all hearts in death.
So again they walked, now about love, they talked
'bout arts and beauty and wine, 'till they stopped.
I bring you here unto this place, but woe I cannot enter
Go, seek him there, but not his face, your love will see him better.
-Orville “pervy” Basas-