Of Pain And Silence
What dark days this side of life,
by Ronny Self
Of crooked friends and budding sorrow
Oh, the hopes of just making it ‘til tomorrow
Could not hide the heart from the scythe
Nor take the anguish from every smile,
Because every step taken is filled with pain.
And the sounds of laughter go dim, and wane
The waters that could not wash the blood from the tile
Nor quench the thirst of the dying man.
He who found in the moon a reason to exist.
He who stretched his hand, reached out, missed
And fell crushed back to the land.
No, no sympathy lives here, the wise say.
The infant brook on its way down
To the river knows in its heart it will drown.
But it keeps going, keeps going anyway.