By: PaysConteur~

I don’t always know
what they mean,
in their solitude, the great comforters
with the warmth
of many souls.
Compassion has no name,
nothing to bury but the dead.
Let them go on ahead
to plead for no excuses.
Deep as tomorrow
that is no more;
windswept without regret
slowly glimmering away the darkness.
The strength in tears
is never shed