'The Leaving'

It tears at my heart,
but I can’t heed it.
I have to turn and run.
I cannot ever stand
the thought of a retreat,
but some things cannot be.

As the pages turn to close,
the eleventh hour sets,
and as the years wash over me;
I find myself unchanged.
Still serving the greater good,
before my own agendas.

I wish there’d been a place in time,
where I kissed you goodbye.
But all begone, and not forgot;
I’ll leave these hallowed skies.
Head back across the desert wide,
to find my way inside.

'The Leaving'

Laszlo Totka

Sydney, Australia

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