'Twas not a night on the eve of summer

Nor a winter's day,

When I bore witness to your dismay.

 

From whence your anguish originates,

I have only one little clue,

Though I doubt the truth would be heard,

That this life is only one little word.

 

You nor I can change this fact,

For even man lacketh the tact,

To aptly say with a righteous tone,

That this life is only one little word!

 

This word, this one word so shrouded with mystery,

Is not one to be taken lightly, nor with such history,

Because you see, this word is not just a mystery a part of history!

It is the essence our ever presence,

The flame to life's eternal candle,

Perhaps now you are intrigued?

I shall tell you this wondrous word,

And I hope that I will be heard,  

Love, it is the only word to echo,

While only a few may hear it.