Emotionally destroyed,
Passion, devoid,
No mountains left to climb
No Love, sublime.
Life pitter, patters on,
But once you're done
Your done
Finito, Finite
Where to go?
Follow the sun?
There is no life left
In the melting snow
Nor is there any hope
For Love to grow.
Sandra, a poignant write. This low road is the lot of millions in this cruel world. However, to love oneself brings out positivity. We are always one mind notwithstanding others love us. I maintain that we are all alone under our craniums. Not very poetic but that is the truth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I am fortunate to have many friends, whom I love and that love me. This assuages the occasional loneliness of my solitude. Peace, Sandra