A poet said that love will conquer all.
Such words are just fallacious fantasies
That turn a thousand dreamers into thralls,
For no vain promise saves from centuries
Of separation. You, my lover lost,
Have always been the symphony of beauty
And I, the deaf attendee, left star crossed,
Will search for you in all I do and see,
But never find. My dear, say not goodbye,
End not my final hope with cursed words,
I'd rather scour burning deserts wide
Than take oasis and give up pursuit.
You took my heart and hid it with your own,
Love, without you, to phantomhood I'm prone.