Love Denied by Eternity

I dream a dream as old as bone,

of love no king has ever known,

a working man with scarred-up hands

who walks the road fate only plans.

I dream of her in quiet night,

in robes of ash and starlit white,

the Goddess Death-no sword, no fear,

just knowing eyes that see me clear.

I dream she comes at evening’s sigh,

when sparrows rest and winds go by,

not to take breath or count my days,

but stand with me in gentle ways.

I ask no gold, no crowned estate,

no borrowed time, no stolen fate;

just one true hand within my own

when all that’s mine is overthrown.

I dream I lift her shadowed veil

and speak my vow, my voice gone pale:

“If all must end, then let it be

that Death herself should walk with me.”

I dream of rest for souls worn thin,

of quiet mercy at the end,

of painless sleep, of doors undone,

of journeys closed when work is done.

And so I dream, as all men do,

when night grows long and hope feels few-

that even Death, when love is true,

might choose a man to walk life through.

Yet still she turns, her silence kind,

no cruelty within her mind;

“I cannot stay, nor take your name-

to love me is to love the flame.

I walk alone so all may rest,

no vow can bind my endless quest.”

She fades like breath on winter’s air,

and leaves me living… dreaming still… of her.