Dying

This is 'Dying', a piece of love poetry that I started yesterday. It really is kind of rapid as it captures purely a single, quick scene.
The balm soothes slowly the blessed wound,
As your brow rages with sweat.
Your hands ,though broken, work tirelessly,
To close my wound and you do not fret.

Though smiling is your lovely face,
As pretty it is as the lillies in May.
And though the angel of death is closing fast,
I cannot imagine a better day.

For the splendid sun is in distress,
And the raging clouds are passing by.
My hours are counted, but I cannot count,
I have accepted that I shall die.

I speak unspoken words, that do not escape,
My dry lips to the wispy air.
I raise one arm and I aim fruitlessly,
To caress your silky hair.

You drop a tear and I cry too,
I did not think I was worth all of this.
From everything that happened to me,
You're the only one I shall truly miss.

I want to tell you that it's over now,
That I have to go and you have to leave.
That someday I'll see you in better lands,
A place where death cannot reach.

How lucky I was to know you here,
How lucky I was to be alive.
For love is something I thought not of,
Love is that which we cannot contrive.

Your eyes look down and your hands for a second stop,
You brush ashes off your cheek.
And as the warm air struggles to drive us apart,
Your lips strive to speak.

"I loved you alive and you're all I had"
"I love you too," I reply,
In old tales they said love cannot fade,
And love cannot die.

For the trend of love is to breed its form,
The trend of love is to simply be.
And as I close my eyes to you,
Love is all I see.