With shining eyes and heedless words they speak
    To offer comfort better left unsaid;
No balm can cool the coals upon the ground,
    Or blunt the thorns which grow upon his bed.

He reaches for some beauty in the dark –
    Some solace from the lies they think are real –
In solitude, his angry tears can fall;
    At night, he has the luxury to feel.

He wanders in the silky, dew-wet grass,
    To hear the frogs and crickets sing their songs
While fireflies blaze in honeysuckle vines;
    These simple creatures ease those thoughtless wrongs.

A cape of clouds obscures a glowing moon,
    And quiet stars burn brightly in her wake;
Yet though their distance calms his aching mind,
    How many disappointments can he take?

The answer comes within a whispered breeze,
    Across a field of poppy-scented mist;
And all is lost and gained and lost again
    As thought retreats in silence, never missed.