THE RHEINFALLE

The setting,
the Rhinefalle to the local Swiss,
was surreal,
a fitting subject
for the classic romance novel
that you loved so well.

The rapids of the Rhine river,
wild with reckless abandon,
had the intoxicating embrace of risk.

Moving on their own axis,
they refused containment,
slipping between the rock crevasses
to give birth to cascading waterfalls
that pulsed with the rythm of time
and the purity of history.

In the distance,
high on a hill,
immersed in perfect stillness
under an immovable sky,
stood a towering castle...
worthy of your imagination.

Hovering above the misty foam
that danced like teardrops
from a broken heart,
the retreat was a mystery
reserved to itself.

Under the filtered light
of a seasoned spruce tree,
your dust was cast
to become one
with the living earth,
for time immemorial.

The novel shapes itself,
one chapter ending,
the other beginning.

The heroine
always returning home
to center stage.

My lady is home.

© JOHN PISCATELLA