Sadness in its force has an allure

The memory of my loss still gives me pain
I do not wish to feel it  anymore
The butterfly is   battered once again

The waiting with its vigilance is strained
As if a monster shuffles to my door
The memory of my loss,  oh heart of pain

Who for love will risk this sadness named?
Who  is criticised  for spirits poor?
The butterfly, the storm will come again

Life is hard and  wildness can’t be tamed
Sadness in its force has  an allure
The memory of my loss still gives me pain

Leaving Sodom,  salt dissolves in rain
I must look forward with a vision pure
The butterfly find pleasure once again

The loss of movement  we may  each endure
The ills of age won’t have a final cure
The memory of my loss  will fade with time
The fluttering flower  gives joy  yet has no fame