The face that was within me fades away.
I hope for some time longer it may stay.
That which I thought permanent is gone.
No more are we so special to someone.
At first I saw his face as if he lived
But to the dead there’s nothing we can give.
We must turn away and walk alone.
Let the face be blanked out like a stone.
The shingle on the beach, the cobbled street
They have no faces,nothing we can meet
Can we live without another’s gaze?
Mysterious is the Lord as are his ways
https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2810702/
Hematohidrosis is a rare condition in which a human being sweats blood.
Leonardo Da Vinci described a soldier who sweated blood before battle. Jesus Christ experienced hematohidrosis while praying in the garden of Gethsemane before his crucification as mentioned in the Defenders Bible by Physician Luke as “and being in anguish he prayed more earnestly and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground.”
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Writing_on_the_Wall
It’s very ancient story about Belshazzar’s feast. It’s well worth reading this if you are interested in phrases that we use we got knowing where the
The face that was familiar was erased
Now I feel the emptiness within
A lonely heart,a mind that seems half crazed
By losing him,how greatly have I sinned?
The face so dear, seemed etched upon my heart
I did not see the writing on the wall
Now my heart is blank, how shall I start?
Never love another in this life?
Measure mathematics on a chart?
Learn the poet’s worth yet feel the knife?
The dagger in the heart, the loss of blood
Anaemic, faint and weak, where shall we go?
Like the chained up slaves felt, where is good?
The Arctic wastes of life, the frost the snow.
I smile and look contented , understood
My patient hands alone now sweat with blood
In this spring weather birds appear
Building nests for children dear.
The sun is low and sends strange light
Shadows long form artist’s sight
Blossom bends from trees still bare
Cherry AE Housemans dear.
I look up into the sky
No geese are here for a flyby.
I look down to see the soil
Where the worms in patience toil
Like the Carers in a Home
Noone writes of them in poems
Noone writes of beetles’ paths
Not of great spiders hidden worth
The cobwebs glitter with small gems
We have no way to preserve them
So we must seize the moments beads
Decorations our souls needs
Oh,Emile got up, then he yawned stretched
Cat pandiculation
For cats get stiff and cats get tense
They won’t write no dissertations
Emile called to Stan and Stan got up
Pet manipulationion
Stan made tea and fed Emile
Emile’s ecstasisulation
Mary came and she saw old Stan
Oh, a manifestation?
Are you real,she , called to him
What impertinentication!|
I like your cheek, her husband cried
Show me your appreciation
Where is that, his dear wife said.
Is it under my aprion?
Well,Leonard Cohen did mentioned this
I’m damned by my own veneration
Oh,Stan get up and get us gin
This is pure excruciation
Calm down,Mary.I am back
This is a mere notification
I have got myself another man
What a pestification
Does he sleep by you in bed aT
There may be an evacuation
Don’t be rude, we thought you had gone
I’ll drown in my own perspiration
I feel such shame at seeing these men
It’s torment and it’s a tribulation
The doctor told me you were dead
Is it conspirification?
Send a code to my phone,send me ten
That will verify my restoration
How my heart sings 