The Loss
How it lasted,
How it went.
Should we consider
What was spent?
Even birds
And the bees
Make mistakes
And lean on trees.
What have I
That allows
Inconsistence
In what's allow'd?
Fickle wish,
Hot desire.
My teasing mind,
What I admire.
I wander,
Circling,
I chase myself:
Following.
Death causes me
Not to turn,
But embrace.
I again yearn.
Loving arms
Calling me.
I search for them,
But can't see.
Without sight,
Blindly moving.
No more flight:
I am lost.
How it lasted,
How it went.
More than just living
Life was spent.
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