to love is to die
not once, but over and over again
death is distributed on every axis;
ending is the certain end
of all and everything we hold
in heart and mind

what we mirror within ourselves
will always be lost without
and what mirrors any part of us
is no less certainly bound
for the same oblivion

we may hope for some truer
truth than these, and were
there an author of our fate
we might yet expect to find it

but i do not, if i am honest
all hope is temporary, and if there is solace
in the ever-dying world, it is only that
love itself in all of its
futility
remains possible

p1k3 / wip / to_love_is_to_die