I can't stop.
Encased in passions, wandering in fires of glory.
You feel sorry for my taste, naming my versatile mind a waste.
I wish you understood that it is better to burn out than to lose the flame.
Complainers all around the globe, that nothing really matters
in the sea of post-modernity, sniveling their angst at me.
I find this funny, just how they are missing the
variety of life, hidden in mundane mud of our plight.
Yet the gold dust won't corrode in the sea of time.
And I can still look forward to the dusk and dawn.
While the sun is above me and air inside me,
I will stay ardent, high on life.
No comments:
Post a Comment