There should be a word for this feeling.
There ought to be a phrase or a line.
There should have been a moment
There ought to have been time.
Writers should have written;
Fingers should have touched.
Hearts should never have broken
And lovers should always have loved.
New worlds should still be to discover
Secrets should sleep safe unsaid
Last words should sound like a baby’s first cry
The starving should be fed.
But should poets ever find it
And artists outgrow their art
Then there’d be no more looking
And cold would be the heart.
