Poem of the day

A Beauty Lost

A beauty lost lies shattered like
a crystal goblet cast to earth
and crumpled lies against the stone
which once was parent of its birth.
My progeny lies mangled thus
which once my crowning glory was
and strewn about me trappings lay
and of my sordid past betray.

I clasp a fragment in my fist
and blood runs down my finger.
I cannot stem the flowing tide,
The heavy heart that lingers
in the shadow of my recompense,
where hims of sorrow do commence,
cries out in muted mourning
for it heeded not the warning
which was stamped across my childhood
and sung over my cradle bed
in muted tones of a mother's hum,
like whispered charms above my head.

Blessed be the ones who keep their faith,
blessed be the charms which keep them safe,
but I with all my charms are fraught
with the wages which my sins have bought.
My goblet holds no wine or water
for the thirsty ones who pass,
and I must stand alone and empty
on the withered, dying grass
where those with candles go a walking,
dancing, laughing in their talking.
Bright and joyful are their songs,
For which my soul secretly longs.

Is there no second chance among
the foolish virgins in the dark
outside the wedding party's door,
who did not heed their master's words and
hearkened to the their sloth instead?
Shall hey be left for dead
and hear the Lover-Master say
"I know you not, turn thus away"?
My stony heart needs a breaking
before my lantern shines again,
before I knock upon that door
and cry "wilt thou, Lord, let me in?"

O Precious Blood outpoured for me
upon the darkened Calvary,
I thirst for you, o bitter wine,
to lose myself and make me thine.
O purge begin and wipe my soul
of all that is impure and black
upon the heart which was always made
for whiteness with out spot or crack.

I long for Thee, O Precious Bread,
my life-line which shall life my head
above the waters of my sin
and send Thy graces flooding in.
My life, my breath, mold me anew
into that spotless image divine
and in the furnace of Your Love,
the metal of my heart refine.