the future was never promised
but naivety still exists
we live, we laugh, we love
like immortals blessed by Apollo’s bliss
youth lives forever in the minds of the young
who’s grandiose dreams fashion bright tomorrows
but until ink pens paint our own Dorian Grey
man will never know the instant when his life will flash away
and become a fleeting remembrance played on death’s harp strings
from the womb to the tomb, that’s the path that fate pre-tells
and once the soul is laid to rest, all that matters is heaven or hell
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment