Is there a place where struggle ever ends?
It's always, everlasting and forever.
A land where nought on nothing more depends,
Where horror, hate and anger no more rise,
A secret honey bee in sunlight flies,
To cure the cyclic pain that I despise,
To hide the evil twin inside the never.
Without beginning, middle or an end,
Eternally the blackened tears fall deeper,
And time does not create for me or mend,
I am all kinds of things, you calmly said,
One sting and then the honey bee is dead,
But always stays alive through times we had,
I stand and ask, am I my brother's keeper?
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Comments about this poem (Always by Jan Hauck )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
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