A journey that was meant to reach an end-
Will always point to a newer one in its stead.
The misunderstood metaphor of now-
Will vanish away as a wisp of smoke,
Fragile and evanescent as ever.
A reality is only as real...
As the promise of a better morrow.
Nothing is what it seems to be.
A parting gesture of destiny...
May become the gratifying embrace of fulfillment.
When love ceases to exist,
In its place you may find disdain.
Somewhere in the endless void of forevermore....
Only scattered leaves will remain.