Seasons of Pain

The days get colder as the seasons change.

From one of blossom to now of pain.

The sorrowful days that formed our tears

Will go with the wind as quickly as

Taking a breath.

So tell me where should I go

Between the oceans of life and death?

Where one is robbed of a time

Quicker than the changing of seasons.

Where screaming and yearning

Can not bring back the dead

But praying and leading

benefits one instead

Where laughter and tears have drowned

in the weight of life.

While death in its stillness makes no sound.

And we remember the arguments and pain

we caused upon them,

not the warmth, the joy, the happiness

That we brought them.

I yearn to be like a mountain that is untouched by the tides of change.

Or a bird that flies for those who are aware of when they die.

In full awareness but can not control

Their death’s arrival

And the loss of their home