Overworked and overwrought,
I miss those days when energy was infinite,
when we could love outrageously without an end,
when work was but a game that always would succeed,
when childhood never left us,
and the strength of youth seemed everlasting.
Pains and aches have overtaken us,
and losses have reduced our morals
to recurrent desperation and dejection,
wishing you were there with all the dead.
Can love be found still in this darkness?
We are groping blindly
trying to restore our intrepidity
but find it necessarily replaced by sad humility.
The loss of spirit weakens more than any overstrain,
and to be comforted by simply longing
is not enough and no good substitute.
Instead the hollowness grows deeper.
How can love survive?
That is the question
ever put with more amazement,
but the fact is, that it does.