Nothing’s eternal, except eternity itself.
Goodbye old friends, I wish you were here.
Gone to your rest, but I don’t envy you.
Memory is sorrow; I want to see you again.
Your eyes filled with flame, faces so vivid,
Those were the times when you were so splendid.
Poured away, drained away, washed away, now.
And remaining dust submits to the wind.
Springs fed hope of tomorrow, but not the day after.
We all looked ahead, but never that far.
There’s a day we each meet the horizon,
And find that we still want another.
How we swam with the current, our bodies so lithe,
When we should have hidden somewhere deep inside.
Curled ourselves in that moment, and never come from it,
But those moments are gone, and these ones are here.
Pale onward stride, until each is broken.
Still reaping the vortex I sowed.
Chasing the sunlight and everything dear,
But we left behind more than we knew.
If only we’d learned how to stay where we were.
We counted beginnings, as if they were blessings,
When we should have been weeping, for what we were leaving.
We only woke at the end, when the story was told,
And then tried to find its true meaning.
By then it was too late, the fire had gone out,
And all is forgotten, without being forgiven.
Given the chance, I’d stop the turning.
There’d be no more pain, no laughter, no yearning.
We’d float like a leaf upon the lake,
Basking our praises to the sky above us,
And when it turned night, we’d have nothing to fear,
Because we’d never know of an end.
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