Sorrow

'Tis such a funny thing,
To live a life so incomplete,
Yet never the thought to dawn.

'Tis such a funny thing,
To live deprived so long,
So unawares,
So ignorantly content,
Then in the thirst for new discovery,
To shatter the dream in which you dwelt,
As you strived to shape a new one.

'Tis such a funny thing,
To live a life so hollow,
Yet think the pang but in your head,

'Tis such a funny thing,
To live a life so void,
And so suddenly be thrust into the cold.
Touched by the blessing,
Touched by the pain,
Deprived of your once imagined grace
And left to struggle in the landscape of want.

'Tis such a funny thing,
For you to suffer such upon me,
My love, my sweetest desire,
Thoughts of you pushing me onward
While memories of you hold me back.

'Tis such a funny thing,
The joyful pain,
That I will forever endure,
Until you are in my arms once more.


May you endure, Lord Scarlatti. As you have inspired us, may we be as
your strength in return.


Penned by my hand on the 2nd of Valnuary, in the year 368 AF.