Linger No Longer (Upon the Hill of Tragedy)

As once down the Hill of Tragedy,
I dragged my heart behind me.
That I had to climb up first to descend,
Is naught but life's cruel irony.

For, it would seem, that none are safe,
From the tempest's choice to bind them.
And soon in tendrils dark they're wrapped,
By the ever mournful wraith.

Heavy now, since the choice to descend.
But though the pain lingers,
And the Hill quite real,
The wraith is only pretend.

At the Hill's foot is a vast sea,
The salt cleans the wounds.
The cool water cures the burns,
And the waves set you free.

Ribbons of light with engulf you,
Each strand whispering "Forgiveness."
The tendrils will curl away,
And the darkness will be through.

But as you look behind your eyes,
At the thorny, sullen mound.
The wraith will be there waiting,
To claim again its prize.

So linger no longer upon the Hill,
That choice is only yours.
If you let that wraith hold you there,
You'll be there ever still.