Consolatory?

The state of sorrow is much complex;

Vivid, vibrant, and enigmatic,

Multi-layered, acute and profound;

If anything can be absolute,

It is anguish, distress and sadness.

Joy pales in comparison;

A superficial moment captured

With an agitated vulnerability;

Happiness is ephemeral, destructible.

Despair is eternal;

It enhances the charm

Of the subject it affects;

Adding strength to the character,

Are the tears held back

And not the smiles flashed.

No poet can do justice

To human emotion if he

Does not talk of

Aching hearts and bruised souls.

There is more to talk about

Dead winters and falling leaves

Than green summers and delightful springs.

What worth is the life that has not

Cried for love, nor lost a dear possession;

If you have not fallen off a swing,

Or been hurt by someone near;

If you have not failed a test that mattered

Nor cherished an unfulfilled dream

You still have miles to go…

In a perverse way, that joy does not,

Sorrow completes our existence.

It consummates the cycle of life -

Satiating the deep gorges

That beatitude leaves behind…