Hidden by a pastless sorrow
Talk of things we should not dwell
Emptiness inside a hollow
Purity that is too swell
Binding I cannot unchain tigh'
Rope that keeps me in the thrall
Try with might and try with main I
Still must, still must bear it all
Rhymes flow freely past the morrow
Verses tingle on the tip
With myself I find I quarrel
Elixir of which I sip
Pour'd onto the ground to seep in
To the dirt and Mother Earth
'Til once more my soul sinks deep in
No heat coming from the hearth
Thence I lie feet on the pillow
Head imbib'd with dreams until
Heart 'comes drenched in weeping willow
Longing, longing, longing still
--
Churchill: "War does not determine who is right, but who is left."
http://www.wretch.cc/blog/spacedunce5
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