Ask the birds
For days I've been afflicted, a sadness of those that friends who never were, brings to you; of longed-for loves that never materialized; of lives or realities that are ghostly but, behind that dense fog of pain, a voice tells me to get out, to hug a tree and tell him my sorrows, to walk barefoot in the grass and dance for him with the song of the wind in his passing, to greet the golden sun king when he comes out and shine for me, everything will be fine even when the night shows me signs that she will be cold this time. Everything, everything goes away. If not? ask the birds what they think about it.