acceptance of the loss of love,
or even the hope thereof..
or loss of a dear and special friend..
loss of all the perfect things
is tragic in the pain it brings.
this world so reft with angst and pain,
once ignored, now clear again,
tortures me, my softer side,
until it can but run and hide,
back within the gilded keep,
hidden well and buried deep,
it lives and hopes inside of me,
awaiting someday to be free.
Acceptance.
It is a tragic moment in time..
if it were but a moment it would be tolerable
but it comes and goes as I waver from hope to acceptance
hope against all reason still lives in me
therein lies my greatest strength and my greatest source of pain
I revel in it.. the pain.. for it is like an old friend,
i know it well
it inspires me to be a better man
to aspire to greater things
to appreciate the joys that life brings..
fleeting though they may be.
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