the good days burn out like matches. sparking sleepless nights and bad dreams. the force of trying to start it again isn't worth the ephemerality of its effect. you never should've played with fire. it's (i'm) nearly impossible to put out once i'm started
If you ever glanced at me you’d see My pained eyes that silently scream The utter helplessness of being in love. You may give yourself into the arms, Of another man and he may in turn, Walk out on someone like you, Reminiscent of the autumn clouds That are made of our dreams, Delicate as the wings of butterflies That are lettered with our wishes Their wistful glory is lost palpably In some mysterious dimension, For all things are ephemeral. And so in the end, it doesn’t matter If you belong to me or to him But you must belong to poetry, Your inimitable essence worded, Which forever defies the cold rains Poured from the urn of timeless Time.
However much think you know, It is no more than the thinnest gossamer thread In the vastness of what is; However much you value Your worldly experience, It is only a tear In cistern of salt water. Take courage, only the earth abides.
Lakota saying: Take courage, only the earth abides.