Like a sculptor moulds his clay
I have travelled worlds or words
in search of splendid justice.
But when I’m blinded to your smile
or deaf to your lost laugh,
could it ever be enough?
I feel the memories that flee,
trickling like gold dust
but I’ll chase that bittersweet mirage.
For though the stars we see are dead
their beauty still shines bright,
so too I’ll document this pain for you.