Poetry of a Conlanger

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Ebb (2/11/06)

One way or the other,
Tears must leave.

Walking ebbs away sorrow.
No matter how slowly,
It drains out, returning
Grief to mother earth,
Nourishing tired ground.

Sitting and thinking,
Walking circles in my head,
Will push tears out of my eyes
In a wave,
A childish rainstorm.

Tides come and go,
Seasons pass,
Snow melts and tress sprout.
Water flows into the ground.

I love you now,
And I will love you while I walk,
While I think,
While I cry.

I know.
Shh...I know.


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