To Isabel... (an impassioned address)

Hey Isabel...
Where are you?
Am i not dying for you?
hey Isabel...
What do your earbells tell?
O i am cut and bruised and felled!
hey Isabel...
Abuses fly rapid like a storm
And malign hearts conspire a half chance torn...
But i am still standing like a sage
For have i not also seen glorious days?
Have i not taken part in three generation's funeral?
Have i not sipped blood and gall?
hey Isabel...
Have i not ripped knife into my own bones?
Have i not gifted a sanguine rose?
Have i not prayed with a pure heart
'mea culpa...'
without being haunted by any speck of doubt?
hey Isabel...
The road seems long and tiring and full of thorns...
But have i not worn wooden shoes like an ascetic born?
Have i not bent and stooped to touch feet of all?
Have i not tasted the venomous gall?
hey Isabel...
Where are you?
O the sky is still like a morn blue...
hey Isabel...
Apologies for being so much  passionate...
hey Isabel...
The bus had gone far and i am so so late...
hey Isabel...
got only prayers ringing for peace...
like a man in grave dreaming a kiss...
hey Isabel...
Sorry for being so lost without calm
But knowing taken not any wrong turn...
i pray to God
And also to you the same...
hey Isabel...
Where are you ?
my imagined dame?