Forgotten Shade
The sorrow of those wandering clouds is a beautiful poem,
And your futile halt along the way is nothingness.
Your hand’s gesture is an unknowable confession,
And within civilization, your shadow is the light.
The cup that weeps, left all alone,
Is your dream.
The joy that follows behind laughter
Is your tree of solitude.
Your confession, cast beneath that starlight,
Is the fluttering butterfly of a life in the mire.
Your unfulfilled return, flying far and wide,
Is a pain that belongs to you alone.
Your unresolved grief that will not die, even in death,
Is yet another beginning for you.
- The End -
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