The pain of loss
Even that which we have will be taken away
and it’s like nothing ever is meant to stay
and the moon tonight full in the sky
can’t compensate for the pain I imbibe.
But ne’er is it swallowed and gone like the moon
when sun rises up to declare a new day
for it sits like a boulder, a rock, pebble stone,
that never breaks up with the force of sheer will.
And the will is inside fighting demons of loss
with the tools of the trade grown blunt with old age
and yet with the toil and sweat of endeavour
one day it will wear the crown of victory.
It will glitter and sparkle as crowns always do
but the wearer with eyes not attuned to the view
will appear as one down hearted and bent
until she steps out and looks from afar.
From a distance she’ll see gold and silver
streaked with rubies and emeralds of love
but tonight when the moon is full in the sky
she cries for the will not yet crowned.
One day, one day; how many days
for sheer will to defeat heartache?
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