i seek the refuge of oblivion's embrace,
crying as so many before me did:
bliss often becomes blessing.
my shade grows tired of it, slowly,
and my fragile mind feels brittle
to the misleading touch of time.
in longing fields i threw my fading self,
left it to rot and wither and become
one with the warm earth beneath.
in rivers of absence i drowned my self,
estranged pieces swirling in the Lethe
as the voices in the water echo.
i gave it all up, many many moons ago,
this cycling chaos of emotions and
rampaging, relentless thoughts.
now, i drink from the flowing tears
of ameles potamos, hoping in my
fickle hopes, i will forget.
