In shadowed vale where sorrow's roots entwine,
A young man wanders, heart bereft of light.
The world, once vivid, draped in hues of joy,
Now cloaks itself in gray, unyielding mist.
Her name, a whisper on his trembling lips,
Escapes like breath to skies that will not hear.
Each step he takes, the earth seems cold, withdrawn,
As if it mourns the warmth she took away.
Her laughter, once a melody that danced
Through mornings bright with promise, now is still—
A silence louder than the tempest's roar.
He sees her in the willow’s drooping grace,
In starlight’s gleam, in rivers’ ceaseless flow,
Yet none return the gaze he longs to meet.
His hands, once held by hers in tender clasp,
Now clutch the air, embracing only loss.
The days stretch long, their hours carved in pain,
Each moment etched with memories that sting.
He questions why the heavens chose to rend
His soul from hers, to sever love’s sweet chord.
No answer comes; the silence is his judge,
Condemning him to wander, incomplete.
His heart, a vessel cracked, spills endless grief,
Its contents pooling in the dark of night.
Despair, a shadow, clings to every thought,
Its weight a chain that binds him to the ground.
He dreams of her, yet wakes to barren truth—
The bed is cold, her pillow holds no trace.
The world moves on, its rhythm harsh, unyielding,
While he, a ghost, drifts through its careless tide.
What purpose lingers in a life half-gone?
What dawn could break to heal a wound so deep?
Yet still he breathes, though every breath is pain,
A testament to love that will not fade.
Her absence carves a hollow in his soul,
But in that void, her memory resides.
He carries her, a burden and a gift,
Through endless days, through nights that never end.
And though despair may claim his fleeting hours,
Her name, her love, remains his guiding star.