The spirit of Iseult cries to the wintry fogs, “Will my Tristan come to me?”, the hazes part and a whispery being moves to take her hand, she recognizes her love in his spirit, she speaks to him “Here you are after the longest time, haven’t you been patient as well?” to which Tristan replies, “Waiting for my beloved is farther than time” they then iridescently sway with each other as the rose and bramble briar are undying for their love.

Love can come from anyone
Betrayal only from the beloved

I need to write a dot, not a comma,
To our book, in which I've never been beloved,

But was a memory, a temporary guest,
With little space you gave me in your chest.

Your life goals are only hedonistic,
What made me feel not quite optimistic.

Cannot be a sailor, cannot leave the shore:
You, on my life-boat to face a storm.

My absence won't be hard, won't be a test,
As a new toy will appear on your desk.

This for you, is enough for my replacement,
Since I had zero chance to become your heart’s rudiment!

You spirit me away to Greater Eden, /
In the redolent throes of /
Ethereal /
Romance. /

Reverie is magnified in your absence /
As I wonder upon /
Your /
Towering arms. /

Your heart is an impearled grand piano, /
Singing to me symphonically. /
Each key, weaving a tapestry /
Of the sonorities in amour. /

Beauty is your cadenza, /
As your radiant moonbeams  /
Whisk me away to /
Twilight En Amour. /

May you be mine, /
Until the stars evanesce /
From The Charred Canvas of /
The Night Sky. /

I am yours, /
From sea to shining sea /
Uttering one-thousand words in solemn prayer /
That our union may ne’er deliquesce. /

May these words imbue you /
With the ardor of ages /
That we might procure in the heat of romance, /
The silver wings to soar heavensward. /

You are my forevermore, /
You are my swansong, /
You are my euphony, /
You are my musicality. /

You are my poetry, /
You are my eternity, /
You are my whimsicality, /
You are my Ivory Knight. /

(—Se’ lah)

Happy are you when-

ever you see the beauty --


of your beloved.

You are the blossom flourishing within the confines of my heart's
garden – my unwavering anchor amidst the tempest of turmoil;
a guiding light that directs my gaze toward the distant end of this
dark passage.

I am but a letter resting at your final resting place, bearing secrets
that will guide you to paradise – I murmur your name with every
tear that falls for you in the place of my dreams; in the whispers
of the wind, the gentle caress of rain, and even in the desolation
of the moments we are separated.

Beloved, you are my heart's desire.

As I ponder, sweetly mused,
your grace against the breeze,

I cower at the frightful task
of earning but a please.

Your humble smile, your giddy laugh,
of which I must appease,

I sink into my sullen soul,
unable to unfreeze.

For with this heart, I cannot pledge
to you your beauty’s ease.