…I saw her again last night
on the beach
where I saw her last
still searching the endless folds
for her answer
all brightness
and glistening
golden
with a blue tear staining this masterpiece
she wonders what brought her
to this place
and how to get home
eternal questions
and she the only answer…
such beauty belongs in
the arms of one
who has the eyes of angels
and can see the magic there

and she searches still
not knowing
that I’d die for her name

(from “Part Four: Tragic Glorious”)

The irony of a heartbroken beauty. How can you make her see that you’re the one who can fix it?