Always sought, sorely missed.
If I followed to your journey’s end
and broke that which cannot be mended,
my understanding would not be extended.
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The second and third verse of this poem, for me really defines the fear that can be evoked by severe depression in others. It makes me think of how infinite the mind is, and how frightening it must be to be lost within its mazes. Can we be reached? I'd like to think so. This poem is very perceptive, and fills me with dread.
Deep questions and yet, 'A pecture incomplete, '. Perhaps not forever. Read mine - Sympathetic Pain - Adeline