This song I'd never known, but heard a thousand times over

through familiar echoes, distant though they were,

A path crossing at such a predictable angle,

A friendly smile over the counter of observable space,

Sensibilities suggest that perhaps, contact sustained,

Things could boil and churn to our liking, and find us alone in time due,

But the waiting is like a wildfire at rest,

Tearing at forests in the satisfaction of dreams while the world carries on,

The need for now can ruin the soundest foundations,

Shake morals that perhaps should have never been kept,

After all, who are we, if not our pains save our pleasures?

The self became faint those first few years,

Transitory looks as predictions of the darkness,

Carried like caskets through the light of someone's eyes,

Drowned in that blissful now,

Pensive movements quickening with realization,

Spring coming alive and leaves unfurling, drawing dew forth from dormancy,

Making the rounds with a frightful efficiency,

The way understanding works versus how it comes,

An unabashéd hypocrite we’ve all endured,

Then trying to take from us, the conscience strikes,

Tight like lungs having been filled to bursting,

And yet, we still breathe each other’s lies.

The End

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