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.