What I saw in eyes so empty,
when soon I would be made full,
Was a blessing, that I'd be destined to forsake.
With every change in pace, I'd find the same rock.
With every Ocean to traverse, I'd have my distant shore.
But with the loss of some finer things,
That errosion of foundation;
We saw a temple crash,
A floodgate break,
A mountain crumble.
I'd bless the fool who'd call it grace.
I'd curse myself should I attempt a mend.
No, some loss is needed.
Some loss is wanted.
All loss becomes emptiness.
That thought in the back of your mind.
That through storm and drought and harsher winds.
Some shelter, either mental or physical,
Would be to greet your wounds.
Blasphemy, my mind screams.
Through selfishness and woe,
Truth, coos my heart.
No more harsh words dressed in sarcasm.
No apolagetic glances.
No time spent on unwarrented tears.
No my love, not my love.
Sing for morning some other day.
For the night has set for the final time.
Though bond be tried, it is not broken.
Tis only we who part ways.
No heart can beat with mine.
Nor would I ask for a return.
Words so delicate and refined to say what is better in silence.
Its... how its supposed to be...
Isnt it?

