That it has so quickly become so dark
when not yet an hour here has passed
and moments ago the sun stood royal, stark
and whispered in my ear "you own love at last"
But own I thee love?
Or dost thou own me, love?
For but a slave
though far from hopeless
happy are all manner of
man who sells himself for to purchase adoration
selfless, in pursuit of all he chases
he is chasen
for aeons
aging only at the hands of what he sought
for curiosity had hearts and minds quickly bought
given to the wondering
found within, man
abandoned the wind to chase the wind
ever i hope that we shall ne'er again abandon him