Itís not that I want you to leave.
Itís not that I donít love you.
Itís your suffering,
Your uninterrupted anguish.
Your explosive cries for an opaque existence.
The unceasing days that are filled with disillusioned frustration.
The pity I cannot help but feel.
My hands are tied,
My eyes are teary,
My heart aches.
You have traveled the long road of life,
through emotional suffering, and a painful expedition.
You trek down the steep hill.
You climb up the treacherous mountain,
reaching the summit of time.
Tightly grasping, still holding on.
You release the dissenting opposition from your soul.
Scared, frightened and feeling so alone.
He reaches down and pulls you up.
You move along the passage,
as your human form plummets down a perfidious mountain.
We watch as our tears grieve for your existence, your pain,
Our selfishness of missing you and letting you fall down the mountain.
You are in good hands now,
Walk with God,
And we will all meet again someday,
in his kingdom in the sky.