How Can You Know How Much You Mean to Me
How can you know how much you mean to me?
After all the heartache, there is love.
Pierce life, and you are where the angels move,
Praising with their joy the mystery.
You know well the cost of sacrifice,
Mothering the wounded as you bleed,
Opening your anguish to their need,
Taking heed of neither pain nor price.
How you have paid, dear soul, for that abandon!
Even as you've sunk into despair.
Reason has no reason to be there
'Ere love supply the grace, well-earned or wanton.
So let me show you how you look from here,
Depicted as an icon dearly treasured,
An image of an ecstasy unmeasured,
Yearning with more need than it can bear.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon