PRISONER OF TIME 2 © 2008

At the window of life,

The tear slides, silently,

Like a river of contained pain,

That finds anxious abode in the chest.

It rolls down the face, serene,

Carrying the weight of what is gone,

Each drop is a scene

Of a past that does not ebb and aches.

And dear, it desolates,

The heart that hoped to smile,

But in the tear that immolates,

It finds the mourning of what cannot be prevented.

The window is the open stage,

Where the soul allows itself to be seen,

And in the tear, the uncertain feeling

Reveals itself, with nothing left to conceal.

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