*As I sit here, still alone, still sleepless. I wonder if the decision I made many months ago was the right one. I wrote this a while back, when I had just started seeing someone who I though was special. I now look back and wonder if anything, even love, can truly last forever...*
Thoughts of chaotic images float down from the cosmos;
I sit at the bottom of the peak as these rain down upon me.
I wonder where such things originate as the seasons become predictable.
I watch my cat pounce on a moth, victims of instinct.
He lunges slower than I once thought him capable.
Age has its way with matter; is anything eternal?
Time of social bereavement consumes the masses.
Forward momentum is an impossibility when tears are all we know.
I look to you who hides her gaze behind meaningless literature.
Then looking up you wonder why I stare beyond your pasty face.
The lot of egocentrics think this is an instinctual absolution.
In fact it is not. We are simply as ignorant as the lost moth.
The peak looms over me, threatening to crush my being.
I shudder in an overwhelming state of desire yet to be realized.
Your arms encompass me while your smile reminds me I am not alone.
I long to drown in your embrace, feeling your passions mount with mine.
Forget the philosophies of dead centuries, such meaningless worries.
Let us, too, be victims as we reach out for our heated dreams.