The Reason

There is such a looming sorrow found, inside my greatest joy.

For knowing that even this must end

Is like a broken toy.

There can be such heavy emotional scars

From seemingly beautiful moments.

Balanced. Precarious.

Wobbling. Unsteady.

On broken, lopsided components.

How then do we find the will to continue?

The desire to keep, keeping on?

This is the age old question my friend

We can’t answer until we are gone.

For to know all the reasons for this and for that

Negates the need to believe.

Why believe if we know and why know if it’s done?

Why continue if we’ve no more to receive?

Exactly my point, dear loved one, you see

You found it yourself with out me!