We Are The Sorrow

We are the sorrow
That lays low behind
Every childhood wall
Like a secret zephyr of memory

And the wind she humbly brings back
Behind the spray of every childhood dream
Lost within the compass of learning

And yet we are that first taste of water
that gives us back the dream,
A book we though lost
In the endless library of suffering

That physical pain
That throbs in every ungodly colour
and travels secretly through time
And space to touch us once more

Reviews

[emmajoygreen]

Seems innocence is at the heart of your words. The way we initially see our surroundings and feel the best: usually beautiful, happy, mysterious, colourful ad infinitum - new and shiny, But, as we age, grow more aware of what the world offer, we often ignore what it takes rather than gives, shining only to allure, capture, trap: because it can. Our first experiences we simple, unsullied, pure, free - yet worth far, far more than a fool's wishful thinking. Perhaps.