I can’t make this sun stand still, delay what ahead of us must lay to not embrace while we still may, leaves us with nothing to celebrate.
I would spend a century praising what I see, and fight off
mortality’s inevitable steed, to admire your mouth, your eyes, your breasts wishing
for an eternity for each, leaving still all the rest, hurried as the winged chariot
hurries at our heals, this fate determined to catch us wherever we go, despite
all it is we feel, this need to have now what we won’t have later, to choose
love over all, as our fate hovers, threatening to catch what is ageless, love a
figment of our fertile imagination, a myth we cling to for to lose it we lose
all, and never see love come again, and life without love is not living, so we
cling to it now and hope we can hold on, if not for an eternity, then until we
can cling no more
No comments:
Post a Comment