This Face I've Come to Know

This face I've come to know,

Not the imperfect one which you perceive,

But a silhouette and more,

Framed in a Victorian window as twilight fades behind,

Soft shadows and gentle smile

And ankles under metaphors,

Just outside of view.

This face I've come to know,

Perfect, in every way,

Melt, melt me with knowledge

And ignorance,

Foreign mirror,

True Mercy.

This face I've come to know which bears no grudge,

No malice,  greed or pride, all death, all loss,

These eyes with no requirement to judge,

This soft mouth which leaves me at a loss.

This face I've come to know and spy upon

With every passion bursting from within,

Privee to the sway of Gods among,

Released of conscious self and free from sin.

This face which I observe from every side,

Stuns me into silence and regard,

Commands that lonely Jekyll turns to hide,

Transmogrifies the  heretic to bard,

Paints away distortions of the pride

And stretches tight the meaning of reward.

This face I've come to know has smiled,

Over head of our sweet child…

…To my Gratitude,

Under the pain of Loss,

And through the flesh of Weakness.

This face gazes with appropriate disdain,

Upon my grossness,

Put there,

By sufferable pain.

No Art can come close,

To this sensuous moment of recognition,

Which sets me free,

Relieves me of the weighty burden of life -

This face I've come to know -

This face who Created the Lord,

In sedated elation -

He who drifts away -

When you are gone.