The Final Treason

I would that all could be undone,
Once in a while breaks through the clouds,
Wishing you were dead and gone.

I dreamt I held you warm and tight,
A sun ray that deludes my doubts,
Still I walk alone at night.

The heart revolts against its prison,
To blind my judgment and my reason,
Ere the early sun has risen.

It cannot flee that which devours,
Preparing thus the final treason,
Agony turned into hours.

What more can be said? Possibly a thousand words, and yet it would not change a thing. Love and death have wandered the shores of ruin hand in hand since time immemorial. And it is true: the higher we fly, the deeper we fall. The question is only to what degree we deliberately take the bait. If love be a flame, we knowingly walk into the fire, after all.

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