No more cascading through endless dreams, lost is the moment in between.
Like something never found in the midst of looking, taking every feeling in the lack of loving.
There is little to ponder on in a soft hearted lover, seeing the rain but wanting more than cover.
Time is a mystery no more useless than the rest, but no matter how much passes waiting for the final test.
We may change our perception of the past to fit a wanted future, but we may never know trapped in a material stupor.
Searching for the moments we kept, too old to open an aged box of regret.
Living inside stoke illusions, forgetting that we are left to find the solutions.