what use are empty talks of possessions
or of things, feelings or people who change like shadows under the sun
can one place a hold on something or someone?
when one doesn’t know what one really owns anyway
the spring doesn’t last forever,
summer comes and goes in fleeting moments
the dry leaves whirlwind spinning inside,
leaving one tremble in the cold storm
they say the cure lies in the pain itself
who can comfort and perhaps understand
when the source of pain is indifferent?
why is death a taboo?
or loss of a beloved a never ending torment?
why does the realization surface when its too late?
or the courage and acceptance that can make it all right?
it is easy to bruise when you are vulnerable
but harder to define what bruises your soul
the words, the silence or the dilemma itself
the walls, the helplessness or the love itself