Loss Poem by Thomas Ware

Death belies this mirrored surface,
For what is love or hate but a fiery furnace,
Burning bitter ashes of regret,
And setting loose the troubles that we beget.

All emotions stem from loss,
As the result of the primordial moss,
That all descended from, and lo,
Our minds can only see the dark glow.

Happiness is the lack of loss,
And sadness is the gain of dross,
And shame is that stripping down of gloss,
And anger is the expectation lost.