On Fading Echoes of What Might Have Been

I can plant the seed that grows a new soul,
Though have left the field I plowed fallow,
I am strong but know weakness’s greater strength,
My kind dominate, great injustice that,
Strength builds not a road to justice, alas.

I am the end of a long, fruitful line,
I’ll leave dozens of pressed dead leaves,
But not a new soul to carry my name,
Decisions we’ve made that can’t be undone,
I wish it were otherwise, but too late.

Music saw me through the toughest of times,
Novels let me live in far better worlds,
Poetry the salve to all deadly wounds,
Nature let me breathe when breath would not come,
God’s grace gave me hope for life’s hopelessness.

The music and lyrics I cherish most,
That I listen to and penned on my own,
Strike soft chords on heart strings that need to feel,
No matter how frayed from disappointment,
Yearning to soar above their earthly clay.