Prolog to a dream...

If I died before touching her,
before kissing her,
before looking into her eyes
once more,
then I have truly been cursed.
And the wind that blows
is just the wind
not the breath of God,
and the rain that falls is just the rain,
not the tears of a lonely angel.
And the stars are only fading lights
from dying planets,
not diamonds
floating in a velvet sea.

If I died before I could hold her
in my arms once more,
and feel the beating of her heart,
and hear her whisper in my ear,
then the clouds
are only clouds
not the pillows she sleeps on.
And the moon is an ugly rock
not a stolen pearl
from a Chinese goddesses necklace.