Melancholia of the Living

Suffering of a heavy heart causes weeping unceasing.
Winds through willow trees blow and their leaves know
The coming lament of the season;
Eyes cry sometimes for no known reason.
The feelings of yesteryear are still there,
But the resolve to keep living is hard to muster.
In last shallow breaths with arms outstretched they call for their mothers.
The movie of their lives are played within the blinking of an eye;
The foundations shake, and soaring eagles start to cry.
The stillness of lifelessness is contemplated …
The living go on in agony and forlorn, in disconcerted waiting.
Cold darkness calls in seductive whispers,
Promising peace and tranquility to the listener,
But the primal instinct to survive causes rise,
And the tormented continue to live and suffer.
Oh, that they could live without pain and agony in blissful harmony.
The burdens of the anxious and the oppressed are many;
The blissful and the happy are looked upon with wondrous envy.
Who will hear the wails of the sorrowful?
Who will take up their banners and resume their march
While they lie in wounded state paralyzed with the prognosis of their fate?

Oh heaven hear their plea, for their suffering is constant
And their pain unbearable. Grant them reprieve, for they
Fall to their knees overcome with sorrow and are no longer able.

Tears are blown in the wind in winter chill,
With ashen faces solemn and still.
They hold on for another season.

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