by Father
So many thoughts in aimless wander So many days worthlessly spent So many years in endless longing For life Faceless mannequins With more personality and charm Than their models As silence sounds its call to night To wed with darkness and faint shadows The memory of hope rushes out Only prints in the sand remain Of life in its careless haste Letting chances go by Completely unobserved I was sleeping Sleeping in contentment Of love found, formed, and made But what comes after love What do you do After your dreams of love and passion Are related in actions Actions after which words are empty whisps of wind Something more than love? Is there such a thing? I feel it, yet I can't touch it or define it But I know it's there Perhaps what I feel is only a greater love An extension and not an alternative Sometimes the unknown is stronger The untried more appealing Than that which is familiar Though the familiar Be much wanted and loved. I wish I were two men Or maybe three.