14 February 2013
Two lovers met, tied their Hands together with A lightening bolt and rain
Came and soaked them with A passion born from a forbidden Storm, which raged, raged, raged
For a century, the lovers wept, Their tears free to age, turned to Stone sculpture stands proudly
Caged in scaffolding in the Turbine Hall of an art gallery. If you Go there and see them, then say
A prayer, silently, for the two Ancient lovers bound together, Beautifully crumbling in a scene
From a Shakespeare play, I find them Frighteningly compelling, humbling Almost too alive for telling, but
I talk to them each Valentine, my Heart enshrined in this magnificent Art, blind to the crowds ambling
Past years I have kissed each of Their cold lips bleed into mine and I am left standing, trying to cry
But unable to weep more than these Two lovers entwined in their Eternal devotion for each other.
Two Lovers • Opuss № I