Moments

 Words were always symbols

only part of what they convey

but oh great sorrow of sorrows,

when unintended, they give pain

for though man spends hours

and educates himself for days,

he still holds a knife in his tongue,

and can unwillingly cut in deepest of ways. 

And yet those days should still be spent,

in learning to master one's words

for though words may cut, unknowingly

how much more otherwise will the horrors be?

In so many way, a tragedy,

do my eyes see this world to be,

in so many ways, a horror,

do my ears hear it's song, 

in so many ways, a sad song,

are even singular moments of good will,

in so many ways, a funeral march,

is this life, 

in waiting for the words,

the words of the world to come. 

And yet, and yet, and yet,

hope must still there be, 

hope against hope,

and light against night,

and life against pain and suffering. 

For rare though it may be,

still even in this world,

of sorrows and funerals and grave and terrors,

still even in this world,

are moments;

where beauty and truth break through. 

So I resolve to live for those moments,

where beauty and truth break through,

For the sorrows of this world is passing,

but those moments, will forever continue.