There is no greater pain than to remember, in our present grief, past happiness.

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At grief so deep the tongue must wag in vain; the language of our sense and memory lacks the vocabulary of such pain.

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When I had journeyed half of our life’s way, I found myself within a shadowed forest, for I had lost the path that does not stray.

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O human race, born to fly upward, wherefore at a little wind dost thou so fall?

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But if, as morning rises, dreams are true.

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For she doth make my veins and pulses tremble.

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Lost are we, and are only so far punished, That without hope we live on in desire.

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Midway in our life’s journey, I went astray from the straight road and woke to find myself alone in a dark wood.

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I care not where my body may take me as long as my soul is embarked on a meaningful journey.

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Now you know how much my love for you burns deep in me when I forget about our emptiness, and deal with shadows as with solid things.

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