You were a mess,
but I loved you.
I left,
but I loved you still.
You went through denial,
anger and shock,
bereavement,
acceptance of blame.
I loved you still,
just the same.
In your pain, I saw
how hard you were trying
to work your way through your loss,
to know yourself with more depth.
I was impressed.
Now that I see how you love me,
how could I love you less
Hours pass by with dragging feet,
the time runs slow, the hour glass damp
and all because I just don’t know
how and where you are today
and did I say a word that hurt?
Unwitting, blind, and stupid,
a fool will always maim himself.
The snow outside seems less white
the moon by clouds is hidden.
I search for light and find none.
I build a fire, a beacon,
and hope that, whatever I did,
I may be forgiven.
A fool will always blame himself.
The Dreaming Path 