Untitled poem the seventh.

Farewell;
it deeply resonates
as not goodbye –
not that definite thing,
not that finishing sigh.
For I’ve been told,
deep in my soul
that leaving is not forever
that the Kingdom
does not offer
things so finite.

Seasons change,
they drift – do not end.

People return.
I return.
And the King – he’s merely away
for now
and has left us with a piece of him
a promise, and a kiss of fire –
“I’m coming back,
to take you with me,
home with me  –
and ’til then,
Dearheart,
my Love is here,
right here,
so live,
and I’ll write,
to be sure you see all the beauty,
to be sure you fare wonderfully well.”

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