A Noble Truth

I’d suffer from that sylvan smile
she’d worn that day upon the stile
within the forest’s golden glade
where we had sat to share the shade.

That day of love’s first tender kiss,
when I was blessed, but burnt by bliss,
I suffered, from her sweet caress,
and shape, so stunning in that dress!

I knew this ghostly girl would grieve
this boy. One day she'd up and leave
to wander like the wayward wind.
As star-cross'd lovers we were twinned!

So, in my deepest dreaming core
her face, I knew, I’d see no more
within this vale of broken dreams.
Those soul-destroying, savage streams

would wash away, with heartless flood,
that lass whose love was in my blood.
But as the Buddha taught in youth:
‘To suffer is a noble truth!’