Gone

It must be that nothing left in the world is good

Then why do I smile?

Why is there a tickle in my stomach every time I see you?

Why is there so much joy in music?

Why is it that when I think of God I have to cry?

I have to morn

I have to die

Why do I think of you?

In your goodness

In your purity

In your intelligence

In your grace

All I know is it will never be

I am a tree without roots

A bird without wings

A sun with no sky

The mother with no tears

The lover with no passion

The wind without the rain

I am the one stuck forever in the turbulence of my mind

No one will ever come

No one can ever fix me

Not even myself

I will float away on a cloud

On the wings of a dove...not a dove but a sparrow

For sparrows are never recognized for their good or their beauty 

Invisible

Never wanted

Never watched

Rarely heard

Gone.