It’s gone. Faded away.
Like the colors of the dying flower
that has spent all that it has to give.
A moment in time that was never meant to be,
but fell into the path of fate and was born.

Melodic joy that erased the pain
giving reason to be.
A harmony woven perfectly together,
momentarily symbiotic,
but now, no longer able to sing.

It couldn’t last. Most beauty is fleeting,
giving all that it has in a delicate breath.
Balm to the pain, the need is alive
but no longer to be soothed,
and the wound opens wide, exposing intensity.

Fate is not kind…not generous –
for beauty would remain if so.
Is it not more cruel to have known
the depth of what can no longer be?
But it’s now gone, faded away…and I’m still here.