Years’ worth in our days swirl in our thoughts of lovely hands clasped in ours with no resolve of ever letting go.
Though the fates and sanguine melancholy conspire to break the bonds nothing can keep this sight from being enthralled
shall he, happiness dancing waltz with the sea, ever forget?
The tempest-swept shore of unyielding grace remains true to the beacon, be it in the peaks or prairies; a promise,
no matter how trampled still blossoms without the acquiescence of seasons, be they winter or spring,
until the day a tombstone is offered and a coat rack for weariness to hang,
no smiles will eternally be wasted on a frown as is with fear will be on Pennywise the clown.
We are here, and we are now until we become yesterday, our hearts unbowed
And yet, long after light has left times eyes, and last fogging breath has been drawn,
the echoes resound, love, unyielding, seared into the skin of eternity.
Strands of flesh, a promise, binding lives that once strobed like starlight, the universe chants with shared joys, sorrows, and dreams.
For every stumble, every fracture, every tear that pelted our time, we rise, reforged in the fires of devotion’s heat.
Love is no fleeting gale but the tide that shapes continents, despite the world’s cruel dissonance, harmony prevails.
And when the final curtain falls on this fleeting stage, let it be known we did not merely survive but thrived, kindled.
