From the Weeping Cradle
by Michael Doyle

Seeing you there on the mountain peak,
It takes away my ability to speak.
Which is more than something beautiful.
It becomes a conception a bit too wonderful.

The trails become empty circles of storied land.
Their beauty lost inside your held hand.
And me, I'm lost inside the vastness of your eyes
Like a lullaby I find hard to recognize.

From the weeping cradle, I've dreamed of your love.
Quietly on my own, I have prayed to God above.
All my faithlessness comes as a rite of wrongs
And your unknown love became my song of songs.

As I look back and  reminisce,
What love has taught me was impermanence.
The twisted hand of fate teased at promise
Like shards of glass cutting through my common sense.

Living in the revelations of a painful past
Was only the certainty that love doesn't last.
The night had its wounds to continually bring
And I wrote it into songs I had yet to sing.

From the weeping cradle, I've dreamed of your love.
Quietly on my own, I have prayed to God above.
All my faithlessness comes as a rite of wrongs
And your unknown love became my song of songs.

Until in the discarded memories, I saw your face
And just as suddenly I felt the heaven of your grace.
You wave hello and are special in every way you can
And I became hungry to become your loving man.

There in your transcendent truth of dark and light,
I have found my hope in your day and night.
Only lovers find the love others yearn to seek
And there you were, standing like a summit peak.

From the weeping cradle, I've dreamed of your love.
Quietly on my own, I have prayed to God above.
AAll my faithlessness comes as a rite of wrongs
And your unknown love became my song of songs.

(c) August 17, 2026   Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved