"This is but once an end to us,
A single blot upon our page.
There is still much we will discuss.
In another time; another age"

Her palm went weak within my grasp,
As her soothing voice began to fade.
And like the biting of an asp,
There was no bargain to be made.

"I cannot breathe this wretched air--
Made toxic by her extinguished breath--
And were I to feel I could not care,
I'd follow her into her death."

A plague upon mortality!
A curse 'pon all the gods!
And yet the binds of morality,
Will maintain all uneven odds.

"There is still much we will discuss.
In another time; another age"
It repeats and rolls--a cursed chorus,
Set 'gainst a melody that dances up a rage.

Nothing left to discuss; no other time or age.
No longer can I breathe her breath; there is no other way.
The world is not a picture show; we're not born on a stage!
Life exists for pain and loss; there's no grand scheme we play!

"I cannot live this wretched life--
Made empty by her extinguished flame--
I'd hoped that I could make her my wife,
But not all plans are laid the same..."

I drag myself into the street--
Away from the memories of her--
And fall 'neath the current of marching feet.
I try to forget all that we were...

Then I sense a figure there,
A silhouette among the crowd.
And all I'm left to do is stare,
With what little strength I'm left endowed.

"There is not but once to any end,
No singularity to the times.
Though it will not repeat, my friend,
The past works well in rhymes."