Of Being

I heard you say there's no way of knowing the worlds ahead.
To live for then would be so tragic a waste.
And wherever this life may be going,
nothing we make is immune to the erosion of time.
When everything we do can never equate the sentiment of nostalgia.
And across an ocean of time, this love proves so heavy.
But when I reach the final shores,
I will look back, across the sea,
with obliged eyes.

Reviews

[maryjaneuy]

short but still, I like this one. ;)