The Sun drops, heavy with life
A cold white Moon ascends.
How often I have been blind to beauty, that falls softly
Like the night dew.
She pointed out the sun to me
Not by making me look
But by showing me warmth.
Too late you find
Too soon it’s gone.
At the quiet moment, a young man asks
What is the best way to love?
The older man says;
With the heart.
Heavy thoughts kill what is important
But what is important always dies.
Time waits, but then steps forward
Knocks down what you have built
And snatches away all wealth.