MELODIST

At Her altar alone he pays homage, his one 

true Love, fount of grace abiding.

Body arched, head bowed, in tender embrace

he enfolds his instrument, the twain meld in

Her reverence.

Tales he recounts of humankind, of life's

warp and weft, of defeat and triumph, within 

and without.

Sole before Her he prostrates himself, his one

sustenance, his soul's rhythm.

Divested of all ties that bind, his spirit merged

with Her, at once winning and elusive,

his blight and salvation he woos.

Bliss unbounded surges when notes mellifluous  

companionable dance, as gossamer alight upon

his page. 

Vanquished, distraught, stretched prone upon 

cold stone, tears of blood he sheds for euphony,

seeming now a distant dream.

Song of his being is She, the blade of pain in

his throat, his famine and feast, his wolfsbane

and ambrosia.

His cadences, now tranquil, now jubilant, paint

halcyon days, treasured memories. Sparkling

tones tell of union with his Love,

of melodies inchoate.

Pain he would disavow his tunes threads, 

its thrum, unseen, to us unbeknownst,

harmony in our own heartstrings meets.

Alone he worships at Her altar, his one quest,

his life's Refrain.

© 2014 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: MUSIC, HEAVENLY MAID
Source: www.liveinternet.ru
Artist: Sir Edward John Poynter