Truth that is learned, but not applied, forms callouses on the soul.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
As the world begins to dim
I realize I may never see her again
It breaks my heart to loosen my grasp
But without free hands I cannot finish my work.
The pain sears deep as my hands
Receive the blows
I hear the cries from distant lands
Why can't I let go?
So now I continue my work
Licking the gashes on my hands
But the pain has moved to my heart
Because I know I'll have to let go again.
Poem originally composed on Tuesday, April 6, 1993 after visiting with an old friend for the last time.
May 27, 2012
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