Measure of Loss

Today, I see where to end up.

I have lived away and fought to secure my future stay.

I might have even more fear than before.

The talented and fearful ones who leave arrive late.

The talented and brave, who stay, often better know

the truth of good fortune—the place you love is an answer.

All the questions of why are a measure of your loss—

all that live to remember

the monumented sky keep the gains.

Don’t wait too long, even a day,

and see your dreams buried deep

by roots—the final, quiet resting place

where returns home

to loved ones go unsung.