'On the Passing of a Young Mother and her Unborn Child'
A Poem
By Zachary K Whitworth
What is it here that drives us on?
Wherefore come we from sleep at dawn?
What purpose pulls us from our beds?
What devil puts words into our heads?
How can we each day up rise,
To see the stars fall from the skies,
And every night lay down our heads,
When the all about lies beauty dead?
What bitter jest is this to us,
That all we see around us must,
Always fall an be devoured,
By the Earth in every hour?
We watch and see the world stripped bare,
And yet we always give a care,
Never learning from up above,
That pain is always friends with love.
Death always gives in and fails,
To break us from this lovely tale.
Always again do we return,
To in love's fires contented burn.
~
A Poem
By Zachary K Whitworth
What is it here that drives us on?
Wherefore come we from sleep at dawn?
What purpose pulls us from our beds?
What devil puts words into our heads?
How can we each day up rise,
To see the stars fall from the skies,
And every night lay down our heads,
When the all about lies beauty dead?
What bitter jest is this to us,
That all we see around us must,
Always fall an be devoured,
By the Earth in every hour?
We watch and see the world stripped bare,
And yet we always give a care,
Never learning from up above,
That pain is always friends with love.
Death always gives in and fails,
To break us from this lovely tale.
Always again do we return,
To in love's fires contented burn.
~
1 comment:
<3
My mom is giving me a hard time. She asked me how I was, I told her, and then she acted like it was no big deal and I'm now in trouble for acting moody. I haven't not been emotional, I just don't like people to see. If you saw my mom's response, you'd understand why I am that way.
She wanted me to be her little sister.
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