The sun sets as the globe turns; I am alone, and you
Maybe not; Who knows why some destinies turn out this way?
I flirted with metaphysics; I asked for answers but
The questions turned themselves away.
Bleed, heart, bleed. It might help to dull the loss.
It might soften the anguish and the pain;
The human condition is fragile, strong and strange by turns
Though with every sunrise the light returns.
Bleed heart bleed; the power of this pain
Will then lessen, and with a golden needle I can then,
Stitch the broken fragments, wash them in the rain
And finally enable this broken heart to become whole again.
Copyright: Rani Turton