There was a certain simplicity,
when we were one, before.
A certain understanding,
a warmth and feeling.
Life is unrelenting,
and cares little for our paths.
We are torn apart, as all must be.
Of course, you will pine for me,
while I will cry, ignorant
of what tragedy has occured.
It is simple to carry on,
unaware of all that is lost.
We are creatures that do not think.
We fill those holes with trifles,
hope, fear, love, loss,
we live the great lie of life.
Were we to return to that state,
live as one, as once we did,
we would see all that has been lost.
Life saw us pay its cost,
and let us wander off until
we have little left to give.
Then we are life's candles, and it snubbs out the flame,
and sleeps.
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