Caring carries a lighter load.
Its no lighter than the weight of the worries of the world.
Caring just makes it seem that way.
Perhaps, its sharing the burden with so many.
Like walking past the pauper's cemetery.
So many lives are planted there.
Dare to listen on a quiet morning,
To the stories that echo still,
And chill winds cannot silence.
Waiting, waiting, waiting.
Visitors bring no flowers,
Burdens grow and weigh each passerby,
The ritual of the living striving.
Arriving with no flowers.
The long forgotten have no burden,
For waiting, waiting, waiting.