Sorrow

     Sorrow moves in wide waves,
          it passes, lets us be.
     It uses us, we us it.
          it's blind while we see.

     Consciousness is illimitable,
          too good to forsake.
     tho what we feel be misery
          and we know will not break.

                           Mar 07, 1995

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all poems copywrited by Becky Goodrich
all rights reserved, not to be used without
expressed written consent