In the last shadows of the day We run In the hope of preserving (at very least) The glimmer of hope which keeps us posing Keeps us breathing Half hidden in desperate preparation We run As far as we can before the darkness threatens us And we again retreat only for a while Awaiting a dawn The dawn But yet without certainty, Merely in the hope Of love. Dead Yet alive; Alive enough to crawl along The fringes of another day Wasted On vanity and vain pursuits. Wasted on the thought of someone But the thought is not even a reflection.... Its an impression. Imposed by my own vanity: Pointless, Foolishness, Devoid of tangible love that stirs such deep cravings, tormenting me Love on earth is a candle in comparison to the love of the divine The Sun. It is pale in comparison, Straining the eyes of the lover
Posted on: Wed, 03 Sep 2014 05:39:16 +0000
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