Sometimes tradition speaks more loudly than youthful exuberance
but change is an ominous adversary.

---

And who is right?
The loudest one?

nature's awareness
put in a meaningful way
cut by irony.

I don't love you.

it was a cool breezy sunset

the colours of passion swallowed up the skies

and chased the sun

dragging the starlights over the sea.

a chill set in.

I wished to hell I had his arms around me

only the warmth of his memory remained

and that kind of warmth

does nothing for the lonely chill in this cold night air.

light touches bring me closer only still further than my reach.

like dust catching sunlight

those swirls we're floating on

never let us touch for long

always carried away by life and its plans

where we end up none of us knows

but you looked so magnificent up close

that golden guilded flash of you

it was contageous and after circling around we saw our moment

and we held on to each other as long as we could

it wasnt enough.

maybe next time when I see you after floating in the sun

our dust specks will settle in just the right way

and may we lay there forgotten

for the rest of our days.

love escapes us

it roams free in the netherworld

it comes to touch us lightly on the shoulder

it plays with the strings tied to our hearts

tangles and knots

it trips us up and cuts us free

what is it dear love that you want from me?