I have lost before,
I have lost again;
I remember each how,
I remember each when.
But I’ve also come to terms,
With who I am,
And now with each how,
I become better than.
So I continue my march,
Though the journey’s long,
Lifting my head to the skies,
As I sing a dirge song.
For each and every how,
Was a little death,
As you cleaved my soul,
Until you thought me bereft.
But I linger on,
In the darkness of the night,
Looking to sun, moon, and stars,
And the clouds’ ghostly light.