All that you have, even all that you are,
Will one day be lost
If not already, ’tis yet to come
Each loss feeds a drop of sorrow
Into the stream that bubbles beneath the surface,
Coloring each day, each moment, in a slightly off-color hue
Until it grows into a raging torrent
That when least expected, bursts through with a stunning eruption of sadness,
Paralyzing the mind, the heart, the will to breathe
There is no escape – to wish it were otherwise
Is to wish to be other than human –
To be other than a living, feeling being in a crushingly imperfect universe
Hold on to nothing, cling to no one
For if you do, you have only yourself to blame for your pain
And yet, how else can this tragicomedy have meaning?
thiscowboycantsing 