(Written at age 16.)
As I walk out the world of reality
The mystical forest of pain welcomes me
I walk in shaky yet sure
At least my pain shall now be pure
No longer will it be corrupted by
Wishes to be happy, to smile, to fly.
I allow the taking over of my body and soul
By the shady trees, promising to make me whole.
I feel myself fill with agony,
I writhe a little, then let it be.
Few moments pass and my faith is reinstated;
The wholeness has come, that was long awaited.
My mind is now a fog, a mist,
And I ask groggily, "Does love exist?"
I do not have to wait long for the reply;
Prompt is the forest: red turns the sky.
I manage to look up and see
The answer to my question staring back at me.
Together fly a crow and a dove;
What is love but pain, and pain but love?