It was bliss, and then a torture
to have been envisioned with gold, diamond and silver
yet, to watch them, sense could not help but waver
for even rationality would convert to insanity to withstand such an allure.
"I only have 6 months more," and to endure
it in self-pity, in so clumsy a manner
because in the end what does it matter?
If only! If only! But what does time not cure?
What defines you? A waking dream,
a snowy summer, the collision of stardust
that marshalled captivity and charm-
the personification of a distant and hazy realm
which inspires the perennial feeling of wanderlust
and dare I say, it is a well-executed disarm.
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