Sadness

I cannot write today,
I cannot sate my hopes to dream;
So sick am I with a sickness,
I have known but never felt.
You do me a kindness by reading at all,
With all of the joy to be found.
I am crushed by a heavy burden,
I do not deny I helped create.
I long to plunge into my pen,
But feel I have no more to say.
And so my tears fall down as ink,
Tears that shall never touch my face.
Still they stain the paper,
As they try to stain my heart.
Those stains I will purge,
But these will remain:
I cannot hide anything
If I say I have nothing to hide.
I will not fondly remember this day,
But I will not mourn for it either.
These feelings it deals me
Are mine to endure,
And mine to rejoice
At their end.
Now go on with your living,
And remember, stains will claim the paper,
But must never claim the heart.