I woke up and he wasn't there any more,
I turned over in bed, but his place was empty,
And my lonely fingers were still searching for his.
My love is with you, Lord....
But Lord I can't get used to his absence,
I'm torn apart every time I wake up.....
He as gone to those distant shores....
They say that one gets used to it, Lord,
That time does its work, but I know now
That neither time nor death can vanquish love...
Today we have entered into purgatory,
I suffer because I am alone,
And he suffers because he is far away
How could he be happy without me
When I am so unhappy without him?
But he is purifying our love in your light, Lord,
Whereas for me it is during my life that I must perfect it?
Help me my God to love him even more today in his absence
Than yesterday in his presence,
To love him for himself, expecting nothing in return.
Happy that he is happy close beside you.
Death can do nothing to my love.
That is why I am suffering because my spring has not run dry.
But my suffering, Lord, is still my suffering.
The dreadful loneliness of the long empty days.
The absence, the cruel absence.
The deep void into which my distraught heart plunges
without reaching the bottom.
I miss him, Lord. Do you understand? I miss him:
forgive me, Lord.
It's when I forget to look at you, Lord, who suffered
so much for me.
You are waiting for me, Lord, and he is there beside you.
Watching me and supporting me with his
comforting love,
The joy that binds our two loves together,
Without ever destroying what they share.
I await our meeting, when I will be taken into the
faithful arms of my beloved Lord in your
house infinitely and eternally.
[The previous was regrettably abridge by the person and/or persons posting "Letters to the Editor"
column in the Messenger of St. Anthony]
My opinion is that nothing of the feelings of the author was deleted.
