Such sordid questions we live to ask
And as we seek answers, our youth has passed.
Wanderlust is all that we require
In this bittersweet journey that we call life
As fleeting as the wind, as swift as a knife,
A sharp blade that severs all of this delight;
A deep temptation, an unholy urge,
Has prone this desire, an eagerness to purge.
Release all the pain, relinquish your senses,
Vanquish the torment and all your defences;
An utter guilt that has yet to pass,
I promise, one day, it will not be a fuss.
So do not despair, hope has yet to die:
My faithful friend, there will come a time when you will fly.
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