Where is the Compassion?                   



   "Where is the compassion?"  I see little around here.      

      "Not even in the temple of Glioca?" one might reply.    

   I would answer, "Not all are cold, but draw near,          

      so that I may tell tales," and look into your eye.      

   You can see my grim countanence as I stare at you,         

      and I'd wager you could feel a bit of my pains,         

   and through my words I'd leave it for you to construe,     

      as to whether or not much compassion remains.           

"Where is the compassion?"  It comes and it goes.          

      "What do you mean?" one might ask in puzzlement.        

   I might state, "We vary as surely as a river flows,        

      not often constant," with no emotion present.           

   You can see my neutrality as I look straight ahead,        

      and I'd stake you could see the true meaning there,     

   and through my statements you could see the thread,        

      that of an everchanging tapestry that we all share.     

"Where is the compassion?"  I've seen much worldwide.      

      "Even within the Mileth crypts?" one might beguile.     

   I might say, "Maybe a stranger ran up by your side,        

      and revived you with deum," with a friendly smile.      

   You can see my warm expression as I stand here aglow,      

      and I'd bet a little joy could spread just like that,   

   and through my stories perhaps the wonder will grow,       

      and one can easily see where the compassion is at.      

                                         ~ Rykoffe N.