And who will be there for you, dear child?
When you face that immense darkness,
As a maiden, a quiet object of the house,
When it encloses your mind and taunts at your being,
You are nobody.
You laugh. You have to laugh.
Even when your sky has cracked open and the
Stars have fallen, and the tides have arisen and
The earth has quaked. Because no one will.
So you count,
A small partial of here and there,
From the woman who would have loved you so,
And a bit of this and that,
By making use of your little labour.
For there can be no force when
Here and now is not permitted.
He has too often forgotten
That the woman of his past life,
was the same person whom you’d call a mother,
That the woman of his present life,
Is not a part of that property at his command,
That her fortune once were also
a share of promise for your own future.
She said she would thank him
Of his care and his love of the house
While out of love for her you
trap yourself in his uneven temper
Watch him play the tragic hero
Dismiss and neglect your words and
Replace your needs with more materials
that enclose his sense of time
Once, twice, thrice, and more
Forty times a quarter a day
And more, praying and asking
Where has she gone?
Once, twice, thrice and more
Thirty days a month of the year
Everything must be kept
As the way she has left it
As the way time does not move still.
Or else I will not sleep.
No. No. I do not permit change.
What is love but an empty trace of
that honored life of your past?
You linger on youth and miss the
Years of growth,You cling on her
as if she would bring back
The time that is no longer here.
Words, words, words,
So much words of these men who
Think my neglect is out of misunderstanding of that pain
As if I do not feel that same loss of losing not one,
As I look into the eyes of Darkness
As Darkness looks into the eyes of mine.
Who will be there for you?