the one we believe in
can fall from the pedestal
we placed them upon
perhaps we see
reflective the love
in our own hearts
the purified beauty
in our own sincerity
the truth of our own nobility
sometimes we reflect
our own beauty within
upon hearts which cannot love
cannot give
the tragedy
of such intensity
is in the heart
which can only love
with deep giving longing
mismatched with a heart
which cannot love or give except
as a small lukewarm flame
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem