Winds Of Sorrow Poem by Jonathan H. Scott

From there—out there; across the sullen plain,
Invisible—though all have eyes to see,
The pain and hurt was always meant to be.
Now, hope and prayer you barely can sustain;
The winds of sorrow blow and never wane.

The winds that wail are heard to call your name.
‘Oh, why? ' you ask— so much remains undone,
And with the prize still waiting to be won.
What part of life will ever be the same?
For what you sowed you never shall reclaim.

The answers sought await upon the wind,
Take longer than a lifetime to perceive,
And what is truth you choose to disbelieve.
For what is done, no pardon can rescind—
The punishment and crime are never twinned.

Destruction comes to all your plans and schemes.
Add to your loss the torment of your soul,
Regardless of your station to extol;
The winds of sorrow care not for your dreams,
Yet, everything is what one thing redeems.

Then what is left to do but onward toil
When struggles of today seem all for nought?
For by some common tally you have wrought;
All earthly things you know are set to spoil—
What time has wound, you never will uncoil.

So what of death, if dust we are thereof?
Such hardened law is punishment enough—
Remains one force no sorrow dare rebuff;
A perfect truth that none can rise above,
Not peace or hope, or life—no, ‘tis but Love.