To have loved and lost is passing pain.
To still love and lost is permanent ache.
It would be bliss if life was the first
sadly though I've felt the second.
Once there was a rose in bloom
complete with the inherent thorns.
Still the stem was embraced
with stains of blood to this day.
It matters not how many years
tick away on the wheel
when the heart has indulged
in the quest to find its love.
To love is the price of life
with no guarantees issued forth.
Love extends beyond the veil
of bloom's failure to expand.
Life continues with some joy
with love's encounters near at hand.
I'll not proclaim that all is lost
when walks divert at the fork.
A lifetime will flow away
as participants walk their way
by choice or circumstance
down paths not taken by the other.
© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160416.