The Sadness of Beauty is its Brevity

The sadness of beauty is its brevity

Chromatic dances through the Milky Way

A moment captured for longevity

A blip, now here — then gone — gone astray

A punchline, summer breeze — the first sip, last bite,

A smile, the scent of attraction: red euphoria —

The winter mists and rainbows: all dissipate.

The high fives and sweet dreams; butterflies fly of phobia

A color is a shade and a blip in a void.

You’ve wasted your youth, neglected your ambitions.

It’s drowned into grey, and you are chronically (un)employed.

Then time becomes a one-way decomposition.

But Mists are clouds for rain and eggs will spawn

Morning shower, keys in pocket, time to carry on.