When the hook of truth is finally cast ,
Love and grief are all that can be known.
There is no room to ponder what has passed,
And desire, as well as duty, must be put down.
Loss, it doesn’t matter how or why it came,
Flutters in the spirit’s pool - a gasping trout.
And tears, like frequent and chilling rain,
Patter on the it’s surface, drowning thought.
Death becomes the first wish of the day,
And it’s last, yet one must await it’s season;
To bring an end to life would be to betray
Those who still live - unbearable treason.
And so, the lesson your leaving has taught,
Swims in my soul – waiting to be caught.