It has been said, by some,
by many, that in time the
hopes and dreams, the
pain, all cheap and chil-
dish loves, the aches of
their passing,

all will fade,
and become but photographs,
blurred memories, last,
of a bygone age,
remnants to be lost,
and forgotten, in
the passing of
Time.

Perhaps this is so.
But if truly there be
a thing called end,
a time called respite,
called peace...these
are to my mind more
to the like of fantasy,
of that which occurs in
others, and never in
oneself, than not.

But I will not give up my
Hope, nor lose utterly
that dream of Emptiness,
that Vision of Peace, held so,
there, in my heart.

For truth, in all times,
and for forever,
all hope is dream,
and all dream
possesses the power
to be called reality.