Forever, Lovers and thinkers love equally in their own season
Powerful yet gentle, each hand directing the way
Each word coming out reminiscent of a steam train piping up
Just like me, they feel the coldness
Friends of Science and Religion
Seek the solitude of shadows
Watching their own funeral processions
Which may serve to incline their pride
Dreaming of nothing in particular
We take on certain gestures with remorseless guilt
Great plains stretched out like depths of emptiness
Seeming to nod off
To a dream that never ends
A life of magic sparks
Creep up on us like our mortality
The realisation in our mystic pupils
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