by Nick McIntire

Created on: August 18, 2008

An emptiness in rhythm,
or endlessness of time
The shallowness of spirit
will always intertwine.

The hard and pulsing passion
of lust, of constant need
does not allow the body
for a chance to breathe.

And all these things do collide
when our world is such
That nay a stone is left unturned,
when we want too much.

Yet in this vast and soulless void,
love can be found, it's true
But is it love or only want?
This is up to you.

For we may write on endlessly
of kisses pure and deep
But in the end it comes across
as paper-thin and cheap.

There is love, I do believe,
I've seen it all around
It's in the falling of the leaves,
the echo of a sound.

It's not the wanton heady rush
we so oft mistake
Or that effervescent drove
of yesteryear's heartbreak.

But I have come to realize
that I know not love's ways
I can only muddle through
these unrelenting days

I've not lived near long enough
to understand my heart
I've not been me near enough
to stop myself, or start.

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