Hope

Another heart wounded by the storm
Another soul torn away by the wind
And behold! Yet another death.

Far across eyes gaze upward
Toward heavens they send their plea.

Earth abound is this withered soul,
With a grieving heart and this tormenting dole*.

Beautiful gifts were carefully crafted and conferred.
Yet, this soul sits upon the shore, staved and bereaved

A curious sort of bird soars cloud high,
The watcher's eyes set upon it with a sigh.

It flies over the shore, dabbling the waters
It sings to the wind, making the autumn leaves flutter.

Ah! The desire that is kindled in the heart,
The yearning for freedom, the longing to part

From the shackles of life to the bliss of the heavens,
From the dregs of ruin to the zeniths of success.

To pursue the journey to the abandoned land
To trace back the path, from where it all began.

As the sun drinks the morning dew,
And eyes too now shed tears but a few,

A promise is recalled and a smile is drawn;
''The journey has begun, it shan't be too long…''



dole* (archaic) - sorrow; mourning