Where Love Goes to Die

 

There is a place that is not so far; with trail well worn and path always trod.

Sought by some and found by most.

A beacon of refuge for the weary traveler, is this place that is not so far.

There is a place that is not so far; where the land is quiet and still,

it is warm on the face but sprinkled with shade and filled with grass that beckons the tired soul. 

An oasis of peace in a world of pain, is this place that is not so far.

There is a place that is not so far; where grows in abundance, rest and relief.

It welcomes the fatigued with fruit of mediocrity and flowers of leisure.

Absent the weeds of work and toil, is this place that is not so far.

There is a place that is not so far; Without a clock or concern for time.

Minutes become hours, hours turn to days, the sand softly sprinkling through the hourglass of life.

None but distraction interrupt the routine and only Inertia tend to the grounds of this place that is not so far.

There is a place that is not so far; with prison walls that are built from within;

with chains that bind the hands that made them;

with shackles that hold the heart and mind.

Gladly they come, but seldom they leave, from this place that is not so far.

There is a place that is not so far; where family and lovers gather and meet.

With smiles and laughter they congregate,

sitting together in close isolation,

Numb from the glow of the glass that they love.

Immoderately they watch,

intensely they stare,

silent they remain,

in this place that is not so far.

There is a place that is not so far; where connections and relationships yearn to go.

Each, is devoured quietly,

peacefully,

without resistance

or signs of distress.

There is a place love goes to die and it is a place that is not so far.