the gods declare
it is their atmosphere
I knock on heaven's gate and hear some heralds sing
all clichéd voices— prying, and desirous things
by whose kind incitement I gave my reply with goodbyes
and flew to the meadow-daisies, covered by a flight of butterflies
the earth beneath is alive so in this flight of fancy I dip and dive
my words can only strive to bring you sweets from a honey hive
billion upon billions of those beating hearts
some are ending, some just getting a start
I’ve read the brilliant expressions of poets
and seen some fabrications made from letters of scarlet
nothing beats the incomparable feeling of love
that feeling of a love song that hits perfect octave
I will miss all of this but nothing can last
memory is merely at the controls of my wild and weary past
nevertheless, no ending can begin without clôture
as I am flying into the depths of infinite winter and my unknown future