Gather ‘round, weary hearts,
from afar and anear,
for the story I tell
is one that you must hear.

While the feats are long past,
and the story is old,
all the persons remain;
to say “live” would be bold.

There is Treasure and Pleasure
and Measure within,
and in length, there is strength,
so at length, I begin:

In the midst of a desert,
and before ran the Nile,
I met there a goddess:
Her name was Denial.

Her beauty, it froze me.
The desert, it scorched.
‘Twas my heart she had scathed,
‘twas my soul she had torched.

At a time when I felt
nothing worthwhile remained,
and that all else was lost,
I realized I had gained

both a life and a love –
something worth dying for –
and no more would I want
or aspire or implore.

But it soon came to pass:
“All good things must conclude”,
for a well- broken heart
cannot simply be glued.

When at once I had felt
like I’d risen and died,
Woman took all I had,
and then dashed me aside.

Yet no anger divined
as I lay in the dust,
only “Why?” to the fate
that strikes only who trust.

My body felt wet
as I lay in the sand,
for the tears I had cried
formed a river quite grand.

And the pieces of my
broken heart turned to rock,
and the Temples still stand
there today, just to mock.

Much of my heart was broke,
but a fraction remains
and you might hear it sighing
in the Spring when it Rains.

As unreal as it seems,
I survived this downfall,
and my journey continued,
relayed now to all:

I escaped from the desert,
and though I went far,
the assault of the Goddess
left me with a scar.

A scar with a tingling,
a twitching, a burn,
that had such an effect,
you would think I would learn,

that many times…
But I’m getting off task;
I’ll return to my story,
so now that you ask.

I escaped to an ocean,
but while at the pier,
I remembered the Goddess;
her presence was near.

But alas, I’d learned naught
from my errs of before,
and that fake taste of love
made me hunger for more.

Once again I fell fast
for that mirage of love,
who seemed fair as the sky
and as pure as the Dove,

but in fact was as black
as the Raven of Poe;
my administered friend
was a sinister foe.

And again I was left
as a shard of a man,
by the Woman whose namesake
was also her plan.

My body felt hot
as I lay near the pond,
for the fire in my soul
formed a desert beyond,

and the fragments of my
shattered self turned to soil,
and all things that grow in it
beseech of my toil.

More of my heart was lost,
yet a fraction remains,
and you might hear it crying
in the Spring when it Rains.

Once again I found strength
and survived this ordeal,
with a new sense of feeling,
and nothing to feel.

While practice makes perfect,
the third time’s the charm.
Even this could not teach me
the truth about harm.

The one way to prevent…
but that’s beside the point,
for I must tell this tale;
there’s none else I’d appoint.

That tale about deserts
and oceans and dust;
it quite pains me to tell,
and yet tell it I must:

After leaving the desert
that once was a sea,
I alit to a place
very few ever see:

At the top of the world,
with my compass askew:
It is here that I realized
just what I would do.

In this place full of sunlight
and tigers and trees;
where the birds glide so light
on the warm summer breeze;

where the chirp of the cricket
and the croak of the frogs
sound as clear as a bell
through the murkiest fogs:

I would make this my home,
and would live without fear,
for not even a Goddess
could find me out here.

I would live, I would love,
I’d experience life.
I’d restitch my torn heart,
have a son and a wife.

Yes! Here is the place
where my life would begin,
and that Goddess would never
prevent it again.

But for naught; it is so
asinine to assume,
and my intimate thoughts
are what brought forth my doom.

I could not go a mile,
at any degree,
without hellish Denial
prohibiting me

from a second of thinking
that love could be true,
or from thinking that my heart
would see the night through.

For again I was crushed
by her truths and her lies.
I was deafed by her voice,
and made blind by her eyes.

And my heart, in a final
attempt to be whole:
it burst into flame
with unbearable cold,

and it killed all the frogs,
and it killed all the trees,
and no more is there sun,
or a warm summer breeze.

Now it’s nothing but ice,
and a gray barren sky,
and bears without color,
and birds that can’t fly.

Yes, my heart could not handle
this blow, though it tried.
It had finally succumbed,
so I lay down, and died.

And at once it was black
beyond Vision or sight,
just as black as the One
who had brought me this Night.

Then at once I was drenched
in a silvery pool,
and my soul became lifted
in heavn’ly renewal.

And as it ascended
through time and through space,
I realized, to my bliss
I could not see Her face.

I wish I could say
that I’m not really gone,
but its folly to think
that my heart will go on.

My soul ceased its ascent,
so I opened my eyes,
and sat up on the clouds
that make up April skies.

And I stared at the gates
wrought of silver and gold,
and I sensed what they held:
joy and peace unforetold.

I was Happy, for though
I had broken and died,
I would no more be crushed
and no more be denied.

For now that I’d left
my earthly catacomb,
she could no more delude me,
for now I was home.

I would live in pure bliss
for the rest of my days…
and that’s when the clouds
turned a pale shade of gray,

and the air, it grew dense
with a menacing mist,
and my soothed soul sank deep,
as into an abyss.

And I saw through the fog
by the edge of the gate,
Denial, who smiled
with mocking and hate.

She was waiting for me,
for to lead me inside,
and to haunt me forever,
even after I’d died.

And I knelt down in pain
- I would never be free,
and the Goddess would always
take good care of me,

and make sure that I never
have courage or joy,
or a love or a peace
or a wife or a boy.

And I cried; but I could
not produce any tears,
for they’d all been consumed
by that River of Fears.

And my heart could not feel,
being Temples of rock,
and my soul had been squandered
on desert and dock,

and the rest of my heart,
before it was destroyed,
made that heavenly haven
a venomous void.

And I saw at that moment
what my fate had compiled:
I would always be Dead,
and would live with Denial.

And the lesson I learned
is both simple and curt:
If you never seek love,
you can never be hurt.

And that is my tale,
with its twists and its turns,
with its ups and its downs,
and its chills and it burns.

It’s a story I don’t
often tell, so feel blessed,
and be wary, and don’t
take the Goddess’ Test.

For the fate is a fate
you will never escape,
and the Scar does not come
from a cut or a scrape:

It will tear at your soul,
and will torment your brain,
and this I must endure
as along as I remain.

Though it was long ago,
yes, the memory still pains -
That’s the reason I cry
in the Spring when it Rains.