Perhaps the indifference

Perhaps the indifference, and this place
Sorely vanquished, left quite beyond repair.
Once of hopeful countenance, but now where
Grasses grow between each stone and to face
The stark reality, the stuttering grief,
The pilgrim returns, each instant of distress,
A teardrop falling silently, to blessooo
The memory, absolves the errant thief,
Recalls the temple of their gentler days.
A moment to remember and digress,
From looking on this place where love has fled,
That mocks the spirit with its deep malaise,
Of rumination and of life’s regress,
To look for you, though knowing you are dead.


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