Somewhere

Deep in the corridors of my mind

Lurks a memory

A face

Of someone

I knew once long ago.

When I look at it,

It seems like my father's face:

Handsome,

Amiable,

Well-liked

But that picture

Does not suit this man.

This man is different,

Hard to describe.

He has a vacant expression,

Uncaring;

He has potential,

But uses it not.

He has no motivation

He has no pride

He has no reason

To go on living.

And yet,

I see something burning

Deep in his eyes

A passionate love for…

…for something.

A love that that will not let him

Stand around

While she is hurt,

While she suffers.

And somehow,

I hear his words.

'It is a far, far

Better thing that I do

Than I have ever done;

It is a far, far

Better rest I go to

Than I have ever known.'