The Arid Plain

There is a high, cold and arid plain
We each have visited in our time,
               When the knife has cut and severed,
               When all the final words are said,
               When the vessel has been broken,
               When the life has drained away.

Then again we find that we are standing
Alone, without protection from the wind.
               The wind that searches,
               The wind that pierces.
               The wind that burns.
               The wind that scars.

And memories come back to mock and haunt us,
Taunting us with what might have been
And our thoughts go round in circles,
Not believing that change has come.
               Dry eyed yet not clearly seeing,
               We find again the place where we have been

Some say that truth is eternal;
A love once lived will always be.
Others say she is a harlot
Who stays for just one day.
               I only know the pain as certain
               When that hateful wind caresses me.

As a fire clears a field of stubble,
So too will that wind make us clean.
               Then back to living we will stumble,
               To start again and find anew.
               Then in our hearts all thoughts we'll bury
               Of the lonely place where we have been.