Boundless whimsy, Fields in which he runs Infinite depth Yet, a bounded one He boasts his mane Just for today So much he's gained... So much to say.
There is compassion in The heart he's raised, From sorrow, a meadow In which he'd lay
Where grass grows tall He watched his pride Spill over, Watched himself fall - Watched himself Pour love in entirety For none and for all.
He learnt to roar in song For others Before he learnt to roar For himself. The former made them Love him, sure. He learnt the latter At heartstrings tore He learnt through that, That there is much more To life than to lie in Sorrow, the meadow A plateau for All that had been, All he paid, the cost For All he loved, and lost.
He learnt not to give in To fanciful notions. His end was not the end. His dreams may not come to fruition.
He knows not much, But knows for sure - There are others who need his roar More than he needs himself.
I am starting to understand what I am cut out for in life.