i once cried my woes,
to an old and weathered man,
he listened so intently,
as only aged men can.
i told him of my troubles,
of how i'd been played out.
i asked him "what's the purpose?"
and he said, "you'll soon find out."
"you see, my child," he began,
"you distress over your loss,
like someone expecting to receive
flowers sprouting from a cross."
"but a cross is what we carry,
and yours is as rare as they come.
there are those that have a lighter path,
while there is only adversity, for some."
"a heart beating for others
is both a cursed and blessed state,
when all you have is all you give,
all you are is there for them to take."
"though your solitude makes you stronger,
and there is peace in being an island,
there are only endless waters surrounding,
perimeters often set, changed, and moved by them."
"a heart that big is only good for one thing,
and, alas, hurting is what it is.
if you've come to seek a change of fate,
just remember that what you feel is His."
