The Messenger

Amid the stream of daily,
a silent story winds it way
through trellised passage, arbor sweet,
and mown fields lined with hay. 
A tragedy in motion,
though the action is subdued. 
No one would ever notice it,
unless the heart he viewed: 
a heart full sore with love, alone --
four chambers, open doors
to one who might not ever walk
upon the gleaming floors
of rooms with windows flung so wide,
a hawk could find refuge
to meditate and birth its young
in sanctuary huge. 
These are the rooms where love awaits,
just behind the gaping hole
in heart curtained with tenderness
for one beloved soul.