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.