I know that this is just a dream,
an unwanted emotion that draws...

Isn’t it strange
how time can twist and change...

Does a gnome in the garden
keep fishing at night...

Do not weep when I am gone,
It is not chance but mine own choice...

Yearning for the artists hand
they lie fallow and incomplete...

To the victor the spoils.
Is that truly the case...

Don’t look for me up in the stars
Or mourn beside my grave...

Suspended here up high
amid the fickle cobwebs...

Drowsy water hangs suspended,
Reluctant to fall...

Innocence of form
belies the cimmerian shades...

Fragile petals blown by turbulent winds
to swirl in eddies far from leaf and stem...

It is undeniable.
This pain you have created...