The pilgrim part 3

Behold the wound that bleeds anew
and makes the wounded reel
Its healing has been overdue
he thought it would congeal

Observe it as it bleeds again
just like it did before
and burns him as if she were here
fixing to leave once more

He'll nurse the wound periodically
then get back on his feet
Forlorn, he found, surprisingly
that blood is bittersweet

For it leaves him lost in reverie
that he had once belonged
when life’s rhythms and melodies
coalesced to make one song

In time the song deteriorates
hiss, crackle, fade, and pop
until the bleeding indicates
that pain may never stop

And bleeding will just stain the tapes
of memory, as will time
And faces that could ring a bell
will duly lose their chime

But glimpses of her likeness still
conjures her up in fragments
Her countenance will haunt me till
I countenance my madness