Thoughts on sorrow - A short story/ reasoning And if anyone calls me 'bad toad' im gonna scream!!! (Im just kinda thinkin out loud here, not tryin 2 annoy/confuse) :)

Tears could not comfort sorrow, if sorrow was to be this harsh. Yet all life live is lived with a purpose, be it peace or be it war. All must play their part, untill the mortal die and the immortal fade, pass beyond the West. And to thoes who weep for love and for compassion what hope remains in this? None, unless some clutch at a former honour, a former glory still remained.

Peace should see it, rested in a sacred eternity, beyond the lofty halls of the sun and the moon, nestled carefully within the valleys of the stars that among the heavens sit. What comfort could there be in hope, or even in rememberance, for what memory is is real as fleash or fire or ice?

So how harsh is sorrow, and what can hope to comfort this, for if it is real or not, who can tell, for sorrow is not an instinct, yet is it only a mere thought?

Add New Comment

Latest Forum Posts

Join the Conversation!