Of pain life is made
intense pain and grief.
In pain we are born
and in pain we leave.
We may loudly profess
our chains we can break
But the embrace of the shackles
no, that, we can’t shake.
Hoodwinked and confounded
we reach for the stars
forgetting our fetters
despite the old scars.
Cruel are the gods
always laughing at us
hurdles and moats
putting in our paths
And what do we get?
and for what, I do ask
well, nothing but pain
now, where is that mask?
Who mourns our losses,
who dries our tears?
We’re here to entertain them
throughout the long years.
Surviving is not living
but that’s all we can do
and then one day, maybe
we will be gods too.
Summer Solstice Musings 
You are an amazing poetess, this is really moving.
Sending so much love. xo
Thank you, lovely. I definitely poured my heart into it
Beautiful and such meaningful writing
xx
Thank you!
Beautiful!
I agree. Surviving is not living. We have to dig deep and rise above mere survival.
It takes a village! It takes a tribe.
Live everyday. Don’t just survive.
That’s the goal :)
I believe it is possible! :D
Stunning, really… This summer I sometimes really wondered if there perhaps was someone, like a god, laughing at me everytime he gave me bad news. Someone playing a sick joke on me.
You just never know, right? ;)
Indeed! I often say that someone is going to get an earful one day, when I die