Okay is not the proper measure.
When one loves, loses, decays, under consecrated ground
When Winter, her dark endeavor to shroud in peace, absconds,
abdicates to bouncing Spring and heart songs sing not bothering
with permission
or deliverance
Forget, sweet memories let dance far yonder  for a nonce
of unfettered pleasure to bring (not solace) ecstasy
too intense to distinguish from rapture of pain