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The Lost Battle

Yes I have lost a battle
but the path was hard and rough;
The hurdles you put were too high for me,
but did I try hard enough.

 I have lived through the journey
but why are my hands empty.
What have you given me,
except for the pleasure of a slow agony.

 I am a simple man,
Quite often I shall fall short;
but should I stop there,
Is it the last resort?

 Dear life, are you an unending journey,
with glorious twists and turns;
Or do you stop sometimes,
like an tired traveller with an empty urn.
Do you have the time,
the leisure to look back at your bleeding footprints,
or do you go on with your melancholic sprint.

 I am merely a man,
the chains of affection and the thorns of dejection,
have left me bleeding;
But if winter is here, can spring be far behind.

 The mighty tides of time will rise;
The invisible winds of change will blow,
To me will they be kind?

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