Empty Hearts

Empty Hearts

Days gone by of yester-year,
That pass us by in torrents of memories.
The feelings I had and have
Remain the same,
Like songs through the decades.
And I linger to reminisce a past
That I so dearly loved.

Time heals all wounds – so it is said;
Yet heart remains vacuous despite fulfilment
With nothing more than a gaping hole,
Where you once were the ultimate completion
To a life no less ordinary,
No less meaningless
Than it is today.

Emotions bound to lunar cycles
That wax and wane with the moon,
Creating heightened surges of anguish
And a wanton desire that endures
Even in the shallowest low-tide
And pierces the heart without respite
Throughout the darkest eclipse.

And the perpetual turning of passion,
On an axis wrought of love,
Comes to me like the four seasons;
Dying in the cold of Winter,
Rekindles in the new Spring,
Deepens with Summer’s warm embrace
And withers with Autumn’s falling.

Feeling drawn to a black hole,
Like a moth to flame,
Where the sun’s glorious rays
Cannot penetrate the void
That will inevitably become of life,
If thoughts dwell on the past,
For too long.

But the notion of emerging
From that yawning mystery
A changed man
Is all too overwhelming,
For a man with an empty heart;
Without his life’s satisfaction -
But revolution is a loitering hope.

With the escape from the other side
To a fresher life that lies in wait,
The crucial meaning to life
In the ever-changing world
Within which we all live
Shall be revealed:
To find solace through love.

Life will carry on,
Be held in holy matrimony
With no true love in heart.
And left to write poetry,
In the guise of love to the wife,
But meant only for the person
To whom his heart truly belongs.