The Weightless Weight

THE WEIGHTLESS WEIGHT!

The old man stretched out his arm.
There is nothing to harm.
Yet, weary he had been.
Of what cause him this drear,
He can but only dread.

Hours on end, he sat gazing unseeingly
Upon the world events fleeting by.
He had tried to be part of them.
Yet a weight so heavy is upon him,
Dragging him into a depth of despair.

Sinking him into an abyss of forlorn
Desolation of contempt and failure.
Grasping onto straws of hope and revival.
“My soul,” he gasped, “what ails you so
distressfully?”
There is none to offer answers.

It is the disease of the heart.
It pierces like a dagger.
Piercing through the heart.
But of what caused this dread
That he can, but still only dread.

Why feel this heavy heartedness?
The thought upon which this hinge is a phantom.
The heavy heartedness is also a phantom.
There is no weight in the weight.
That so gruesomely weighs upon the heart.

It wanders upon the past.
It dreads upon the future,
So active is the heart; not resting
when it should.
Brooding thoughts that weigh down the soul.
And a heavy heart that weighs down the body.

Make light the thoughts in the heart.
They bear no weight upon the soul.
“Fly away my soul like the light,
That has no weight upon itself;
Yet it brightens and lightens our lives.”

He lifted up his legs, and lightly they were.
He shook his head and stood up.
There was no weight weighing him down.
He took a sprint down the hallway.
He was like a bird in flight.

“Oh! My Soul,” He cried out in relief.
“Why weighs down these many years
By thoughts that are weightless
Oh! My Soul, why weary thou my being
By mere weightless weights of the heart.”