I'm my own permission-
in every season

In memoriam
is not for me:
well I've lived
and now I'm free

from life's every pang
angst and misery
the shadows have fled
all that's before me is joy and beauty

When the healing
lies in the forgetting..

Words can be
as soft as cotton
and in the worst scenario
as lethal as poison

of such is human nature
in its varied season
would that I use them well
as such every heart to gladden

Feel my words
among the flowers
the floating clouds
the moaning of ripples

I've no name
for the road I travel
myself I've forgotten
in not knowing, I revel

Why are we made
to suffer and cry
when so much beauty
surrounds us- to die

when we’re in
the spring of life
when all the flowers
are dancing by our side?

  Our love is still so nascent
  waiting to bloom- to deny?
  We are yet to share the best
   ere the dusk hours draw nigh-

    to music I turn
    for consolation - there I fly
    where tears don’t appear
   and pain and suffering never pass by.

...but your best
anticipated thing
  is not likely
   to be happening