No Hysterics. Not Yet.

Your swelling heart with rhythmic
Circumstances seemed to disenchant
Its own vigour. 
It augured its demise
Though it was conscious of my
Immediate departure. 
An ancient ideal
Sought to be revealed
Beneath the tomb you fasten in your breast.
Sealed at birth the cynical loom to weave its untimely death.  
But if I shall remain,
Fate would thrive in vain,
And Earth's fortune will cease to be. 
Who am I to ever know?
The universe continues the flow,
And the moon reminds me to flee.


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