Always sought, sorely missed.
If I followed to your journey’s end
and broke that which cannot be mended,
my understanding would not be extended.
Could I ever feel or know the depth of pain
to just let go,
Extinguishing today and all tomorrow?
I never want to know such sorrow.
Is there a darkness where no light can shine in
To reveal the hope concealed within?
What burden so heavy,
Its load we could not share,
How will we ever know, now you are there?
We are much poorer now
One less unique and unvalued treasure
Stolen from life’s path,
Without the journey’s experiences to measure,
And the company of the traveler to pleasure,
A picture incomplete, forever.
The second and third verse of this poem, for me really defines the fear that can be evoked by severe depression in others. It makes me think of how infinite the mind is, and how frightening it must be to be lost within its mazes. Can we be reached? I'd like to think so. This poem is very perceptive, and fills me with dread.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Deep questions and yet, 'A pecture incomplete, '. Perhaps not forever. Read mine - Sympathetic Pain - Adeline