The past is littered with casualties:

And mind

Will go back

And count the lost,

And perhaps dwell there

As an unhappy accountant

To that which should have been.

–

But love is never lost:

The wise

Cast away the past

With all its woe and misery,

And hold only

To principle love,

The heart warmth

That tells of eternity

Beneath the messy arithmetic,

An inward wealth

To right all wrongs,

Solve hurts

And salve wounds,

A truth that swells

As it is acknowledged,

A truth that wholes

And reveals

That beyond and behind

The persistent ills,

Love holds all

In sanctity pristine

And being,

Ever perfect.