Like the soil that grew no trees
A night devoid of its stars
Like a butterfly without its wings
A nightingale who no more sings
Like a flower that failed to bloom
A song that lost its tune
Like kisses that touched no lips
And Life that watched time slip
Futile is a poem
That owned no heart of the poet
Futile is a road
That found no traveller’s abode.
Futile is a heart
That never sheltered Love.