hushed whispers,
in a night, of wild dreams,
procreated a child
and named her hope.

and she,
she whispered too;
quiet dreams of being lost
and/or found
in the thrill of it all.

but these hushed whispers,
in a night of wild darkness
and broken memories,
procreated another child
and named her despair.

suddenly hope was forgotten
and the creator of the hushed whispers
coddled despair.
traded hope for despair.

belligerent, and bitter, and broken
the creator
felt nothing
but the child held in the arms
that used to hold the other.

watching people fall
in
    love
always makes me
so
    sad.

because true love is no where for someone like me.

Some days there is an ache
That ripples through my soul like an echo in an empty cave.
Where it started, I'll never know
But it seems endless on my empty days.

But whether we come to our senses
And admit this
We are wired to want something eternal
If you think that something which will fade in a day or two
Is enough for you then fool, that's what you are.

And it's okay to be a fool. We are all.
It just means that you need education
And practice
And God.