A phantom, painted in flesh, a work of art,
Nurtured by a mother's loving heart.
Moulded by divine hands, a perfect form,
Cooled by gentle breezes, serene and warm.

Grounded, unshaken, a pillar of grace,
A modest soul, a pure, innocent face.
Walls higher than standards, an attitude stern,
A dreamer, a doer, a fire that burns.

But fate, a cruel mistress, denies our wish,
A love story unwritten, a tragic abyss.
Eden's garden remains, untouched, unseen,
The last supper, a dream, a fleeting scene.

Buried beneath layers of wonder and myth,
A tale of what could be, a bittersweet gift.
The poet, a lone soul, picks himself up,
And silences the words, a bitter cup.

As fate decrees, the story remains untold,
A secret locked away, precious and bold.
I've learned a lesson, a hard truth, it's true,
Desire and longing, futile and new.

So let's bid farewell to this dream, this art,
And embrace the future, with a hopeful heart.
May you find love, true and deep,
And may your journey be peaceful and steep.