All Suns Go
There is a hole in every heart where all suns go to sleepAnd eventually for time is only time, to die,
Some things to let go of perhaps, something to mourn and to weep
It is all really unknown, who shall ever say why ?
Somewhere just beyond the mere blink of an eye
One may hear the breakers roar of an endless singing sea
It may be everything hoped and dreamed or it may be no more,
Than the melancholy history of heartbeats
Gone for good into an empty deep of neither bliss or pain
It may be everything, it is all really unknown
And eventually for time is only time, to die,
Some things to let go of perhaps, something to mourn and to weep
There is a hole in every heart where all suns go to sleep . . .
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 799 times
Written on 2019-05-10 at 13:29
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