The Joy That We Remember

The joy that we remember, Is something that lives on? The nature of burning embers Made us fugitive! Our past years made us believe For what is most worthy to be blessed; Delight and liberty, the sympathy and creed Of a childhood, whether busy or sat rested, With butterflies fluttering inside her breast Thinking of all those being raised; But one of the most obstinate questions It don’t make sense inwards or outwards, People falling for us, then vanish; Left with Blank misgivings like a creature Moving about in a world not realising Putting high instincts before our mortal nature Feeling trembled with a guilt a thing surprised; Breaking and having no affection Seeing a shady spirit of recollection, A pattern left by red puffy eyes know one could see; Brown eyelashes hid pigment of suede A history of a stranger still to be untold, Sat on furniture that leather is made, And the candle light will burn all day; Is the master’s light one of the strangest ray? Weakened by soulful cries Shoulders fall side by side with teardrops, Bowed heads and heavy eyes? Didn’t want to be held, cherished, and have power, Noisy moments not taking it awfully hard, Can’t be without another hour Not to Perish Never; Filled with passion and endeavour, None of this tears, just laughter Break eternity and Silence: truth awakes; One neither listens, nor goes mad, Hence a calm moment making us sad Can utter abolish or destroy! Or will it leave enmity with joy. However the land will lie, Wherever you are, whatever you’ve done, Through hounds of hell I would walk your way.