The Bleeding Sun

 

“He who learns must suffer. And, even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget, falls drop by drop upon the heart, until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.” — Aeschylus.

 

Some lessons which endeavor to teach
Are ripe with right soundness and joy
While others infringe and invade my existence
With rivers of of inexhaustible tears

And if wisdom is sought, as it should be
What then is the profit and cost
Do I gain a life painted in knowledge, profound
Or perhaps earn perturbation and innocence lost

If ignorance is bliss then why should I try
To explore the ocean’s depths or reach for the skies
Be careful what you wish for, I was warned as a child
Your desires might come true with life tarnished, defiled

I saw the sun bleeding this morning
As it rose o’er the horizon, shining to wake me
And this night embraces a sad passing of life
With emptiness in the eyes of a soulless, barren moon

Now the nighttide air embraces me
An earthly boundary between me and stars shining above
My heart, desperate to reclaim any virtuous past
With hope for hidden wisdom and any innocence that lasts