So unimportant and weak is my afterglow, that people leave me in their yesterday. I'm no influence in this world of no-matters, but here I will linger anyway.
The raindrops vanish before they hit the ground. They're beautiful but without a tune. And how can the earth live if it isn't drowned, by the renewing flood of the monsoon.
Should I settle for what I need, or chase after what I want.