To quantify my grief,
I measure the sleep I’ve not had,
multiplied by the tears I’ve shed,
and the pain I feel inside,
divided by the knowing that guides me
to the balance I so seek.
And the pain surges,
where there is no tinder to ignite,
ravaged many times this cavern within,
where sin comes to die,
and secrets hide, out of reach.
So what is pain
if not the opposite of pleasure,
and life abides between,
in endless undulations, one and then the other,
so who am I to judge between,
right and wrong, good or bad my brothers.
What we feel is but our potential,
to know both sides,
and eventually not judge either
for what they are is us,
squeezed to be malleable,
accepting to be whole.
Joy and grief are so close,
the emotions that raise our consciousness,
despair in loss, joy in gain,
both a different kind of rain,
to cleanse our souls
and understand who we are, defined.
How we focus on loss,
yet joy be so fleeting,
perhaps it is our perceptions that are wrong,
our judgement so ill-defined,
we hurt more and smile less,
just because we cannot accept pain.
Tony DeLorger © 2017
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