A Melancholic Bliss

Some sorrows are sweet,
The boundless beauty of which
fills your bounty to the rhythm
of a stolen season,
That you’d like to keep them
close to your core.
You wouldn’t like to
wash it off with tears
nor blurt it out in fears,
nor would you wipe it clear
from the terrible chambers
of memory’s mistress.
You’d lock it up in your heart,
With the key of your soul
And throw it down the
deep blue depths into the well of silence.
The sorrow carves a depth in you
Where in the next spring,
a thousand joys make nest.

GREG RAKOZY WARREN WONG

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