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In Praise Of Sorrow

11 Sep

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Let me cry, and face the dark,
let spilt tears be self-evident
that my torment has its voice;
let this dissemination of woe
be the cleansing wash of need,
and in these tears, solace born;
that I am steadfast in silence,
with only sullen sky and moon,
a borrowed hand of empathy,
as my shadow walks with me;
let me laugh at wounded heart,
a mist of departed sympathies,
for the wealth of my memories;
left to me, a weight of breath,
the nourishing feed of misery,
wringing out stains of youth;
let sorrow hold my burdens,
as I reach for higher realms,
at ease from alleviating tears;
let memory sustain silent woe,
as I am lost in resurrecting joy,
brighter by the light of sorrow.

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Posted by on September 11, 2015 in My Poetry

 

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