When Lilies Grow Beneath Broken Wings

When Lillies grow beneath broken wings,

The evening star turns to the morning,

The people upon the street cry.

O’ Great Roman Sol!

Cast away the western star into night,

Disappears underneath a black blanket,

O’ Great Roman Sol where have you gone?

Upon the streets the great blue March,

In straight lines upon silent looks,

We look at them and see stoic faces.

Falling lilacs come from Heaven.

The gardener grows the lilies in his garden,

The bush grows like a child,

From a little rascal to a grown adult,

The sweet smell, in my nostrils I love.

Upon street corners, a violinist plays,

Above the willow tree, a wood thrush sings.

The thrush flies to the garden,

To sing a song of sadness,

All alone it sings its song.

A song for the dead,

Musical notes fly ahead,

My love I cry for no song was sung for me.

The casket is carried upon a royal carriage,

Through a busy street where they gather,

To say goodbye, to wish him luck,

He has left this life to pass into the next.

With young children who lower their caps

With gentlemen in formal attire close their eyes

With women holding black veils over their tear stricken eyes

With soldiers holding faces, to not blink or cry.

Upon the casket,

Lay a field of lilacs

Within the center

I gift you a single Lily

To worlds of golden fields, you leave for,

Where lilacs and lilies grow for all,

A sweet smell upon your nose, perfume,

The casket leaves with them following.

The wind from Boreas blows cold,

The breath of Zephyr blows gentle,

Notus blows the south with anger,

Eurus grows quiet to pay respect.

A golden watch upon a gold chain,

From my pocket to look at the time,

Ten fifteen pm,

A bang to the back of the head.

Jump from the highest point,

He runs from the crowd,

Eleven days a chase begins,

For that bang.

The time races beyond the watch,

I arrive upon the next morning,

At Petersen House, I see morning clouds,

Beneath the blanket, a yellow sun rises.

I look to my watch,

To the hour that stops,

To the striking minute heard around me,

Time of death,

Seven Twenty Two AM,

Age...Fifty-Six.