Thoughts on the Void

Who has right to speak of love
That has never wept a midnight tear
Waiting for the stars to ignite?
What absolution exists
For they that still smolder
Walking the lonely path of fate?
When the sun rises and casts golden beams to fading eyes,
What lost and naked soul
Has time to rejoice cold and alone?
The Great Fire that moves all
Tends to burn up the home
And set to wander those that claim to know.
But do not despair in the ruins, friend,
For the grave dug was rushed
And shallow holes are not oft to keep hidden treasure.
Yours must be the choice to rise
Until smooth hands caress burdened arms
And soft lips meet weathered skin.
Even a forest ablaze,
Billowing anger into the skies,
Will, given room to breathe,
Be once more blessed by calm winds
And the gentle grace of time.
As with the trees and meadows;
As with all in the glory beholden to the Wheel,
‘Tis in the ash covering the destitute frame
The true soul is to become known–
And with it the hope
To live once more.