What is it that you deeply crave for?
Whose face and voice and warmth do you miss so?
Oh, dear child,
For you are only a child in your soul--
This is an answer you know all too well!
For very few things escape the eye of a child.
Only they forget easily...
And isn't oblivion the truest of the blessings?
I crave what we always craved:
The warmth and scent of a skin
That ports us so easily into a dream;
The voice and words of a mind
That is as fascinating as it is kind;
The eyes, the smile and the face,
That steals our control over our own heart's pace;
We always loved the rain on a cold grey day
But isn't it thrilling
When our soul is filled with a non-ordinary passion,
that can only come from a corresponded feeling,
like flowers on the Spring of May?
Oh, dear child,
I beat sadly, but hopeful,
Because we've farred,
we lived and loved,
and we risked it all.
We took a gamble,
and seized every moment of it,
Ever so reliant, ever so capable.
You did so well,
You gave your best,
No matter if all we had left
Was a tragic tale
And a little remain of ourselves.
As well as the knowledge
That we miss that half that no one else resembles,
Not even that half itself.
Still, we remain,
Praying for a good dream,
Every now and again,
Perhaps even in this life's stream.
(written on March 10th)
