By T. Caterer

I finally left, bags packed, soul on charge on the way
there were spiders there too, ah well, they’re in the basements
and in the wild places, they’re possible to avoid

The smiles of the young; I feel a protective love for them
should I be sad, melancholic, that I can’t halt all the pain that comes
later on?

But I know from my own sorrows, that the attempt to halt
the natural progression, the march of time,
that breeds the darker pain

So just celebrate their wonder now,
they’re fresh from the other side
they’re so close to the gods
their time now in that space is fleeting
and it’s wonderful

The pains that come will birth strange new beauties
our world’s god is an artist
they have mingled shadows in the mix
to make the brighter joys and the deeper peace
they knew how to construct their palette

It’s a good thing we can halt nothing
enjoy this time now
it is fleeting, that is its gift
the tears are not from sorrow
it’s a stranger game than that
I’m grateful for it