"What sonorous cry"

What sonorous cry heard in the dead of the night?
A wild running through the mind
Hapless and weak, as a child in the forest, lost
A tremendous weight held fast to the heart
A tremendous love left aimless and yet fervent
The cold keeps to the body, a respite from the heat
A fire that will not abate, that will not die
Though no desire to let it expire; there never was
The scale, balanced on a knife's edge
One choice: to live but to hurt
The other: to die but to rest
There never was a choice; not with her
It is all part and parcel of the path
A journey not meant for the restful
It is but thunder and aching
Always sleepless and ever-stirring
That which gives life and purpose and strength
The curse and the gift—this love
The upheaval is set and directed
What sleep is left is for the dead and the loveless

M. M.