All things in life are lies—
an eternity of hellos and goodbyes
fill up this world of countless pain
that tend to hurt—and hurt—again.
The heart is frail, the soul is weak-
they never find what they do seek
—a searching lashed and stained by strife
—this is the way we spend a life.
As sad eyes weep, the tears don’t feel
don’t understand that grieves are real:
they walk the earth and rule each man
until each hope, each dream is gone.
The head shakes if it bears no more
the pain, the closing of a door
the hand puts down its cheery wave
to wipe the tears and pack the grave.
I found your soul—quite sure I did
it was a game of seamless lid
of seeing, capturing with my hands
the truth that heart alone understands.
I found it while it beheld another
found it swore to love forever
I found it there, its heart was gone
Given away—I see it can.
You found my soul—I’m quite sure too
Its lid well locked with feelings true
of knowing, sensing life of warmth
inside your eyes, beneath your arms.
Little you realize it, though
my yearning soul you’ll never know—
you threw it away to weep and die
and buried love that once was I.
But what can one loving soul do?
its heart will not cease loving you
it tried but pain could not be escaped
the time to turn back came too late.
And then pain came to rule this soul
that once I offered—offered whole
to you; but that you didn’t see
is now the pain that lashes me.
But I still love you—I said it before
though you turned ’round and closed the door
I still love you—I’ll say it again
you—my most loved, heartless friend!
That’s why souls learn to live with grief
and though the storms rage—no relief;
it finds the comfort in your name
and treats life like naught but a game.
Sacrifices yield and bloom
a joy that conquers deathlike gloom
until one smile is all it takes
to wipe away the grave mistakes
of loving—not being loved in return—
this is what the soul has learned.
The discerning soul offers then her life
and more! A forever full of strife
she promises to the soul that turned her down
and dons his coldness as her gown.
The sleepless nights are full of dreams
the hurting is not what it seems
when one first looks—it now begins
to ease her fears and wash her sins.
Each drop of tear she wipes with a smile,
each hostile word now means a mile
of joyous wonders of before
-she forgets the closing of his door.
The loving heart now swells with pride
her soul has nothing left to hide,
to lock up in its seamless depths
but words of love in every breath.
She learns to hold close to her soul
the soul she’s found—though not at all
did he even know she had with her
and took it with her everywhere.
Because to hurt and love is all the same
and loving in this life is but a game—
a game that only the discerning soul survives
that sees the gleam of the lashing knives
of pain—the lover’s courting
the joy of love is there—in hurting.
My love, my soul…
…Upon my face you closed the door
so now I’ve learned to love you more.