AtLast_[07]

>> Bitter Lessons <<

He sought my help. I did not know The depth to which his need could go.

Could my gaze pierce solid pride Discerning pain he'd not confide Perhaps his child would not have died.

Perhaps. Perhaps - or not -

Bitterness, unjustly borne, Might, yet, go proudly worn.

No matter what my ache would have In his cavil there is no salve.

In sight No comprehension gains Free from soulless vision's stain. Bitter lessons. Bitter lessons Best unlearned, As in them is our essence burned.