I could tell in few words
how living takes hold, and death curses existence.
I could tell in melody of aching empty.
I can convey feelings,
as sun brings her morning breath,
as star dreams in time –
all this sensed with a word.
but, I cannot change fate,
make sense of where sense is not made
Knowing this, feeling, helpless
in understanding all is how it births and dies for purpose –
I cannot bring the why to front
The sight and senselessness of life stopped short.
even in knowing short lives matter most and touch and pull
with unscathed beauty,
I still can’t tell of how I feel when it seems the sun settled too soon.
Death makes this sacrifice so we live – why I and not you?
This world was not for such innocence.
Does this make the living unworthy of death?
Who are we to presume to understand
To know the meaning of truth?
Is it absolute?
We can never presume to know or even strive
to grasp the magnitude of how life works.
I do know though that we must put the need
of those we love above our own desires, cut off
that which makes us fall. I Know, if we go above
and beyond, then pull out to soon, we will lose
what is beautiful and meant for good.
If we presume to understand the mystery of
what we speak not conceding that we do not see
a final painting until the cover is pulled back,
then we have been fooled.
Wait – in anticipation in Joy or agony –
but life is a waiting game…nothing less.