there is always that pain <br />that instigates you to write <br />the one where there is no cure <br />although many are telling that <br />you have become one impossible <br />piss off, <br />you leave the place, <br />take a boat and settle in an <br />island where <br />you can talk to the moon <br />you do not sleep <br />because you can't and the <br />moon is one avid <br />listener of your woes <br />it does not talk of course <br />and then faces away <br />like a hand that caresses <br />your hair and then <br />you feel that faithful warmth <br />that makes you write some <br />more on the muddy part <br />of the shore <br /> <br />tomorrow you find yourself <br />asleep on a house without <br />doors <br />the winds who understand <br />you perfectly <br />are there to massage <br />the pain of your <br />thoughts <br /> <br />at noon happiness comes <br />you do not know its name and <br />from where it comes from <br />it waits for your commands <br />but you are silent <br /> <br />you have learned to love pain <br />because it is more beautiful <br />than the one that comes so <br />seldom to visit and listen <br />to you <br /> <br />in fact it has no body <br />it has no soul <br />it is not wearing a sign <br />that it is real.<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/between-pain-and-happiness/
