During the darkest years - each hour I cherished my eventual demise. When a dream of men aged by eternity suffers birth unexpectedly is it the sun that now clouds my darkness or a coveted specter? Is the silence molested by the whispering of my soul baiting me anew? God of my understanding, ruler and caster of my life's devastation, why send another vanishing oasis in this the most barren of times? Enticed by passionless hearts reunited for an instant only then to realize that love from the spirit never ages and forever is restlessly calling. Devastation is the wake of all those that have loved in word only and scars forever festering within me are testaments to what I gave. Accompanied by the guilt of cherishing a few moments of hope from bliss filled emotions expressed by lies I made myself believe. Her words or intent matter not anymore to me. Rather it is the gift because of or in spite of her that will escort me through to the shrouded cliffs remembering that in the vilest storm I showed how much I could love. To all people who greedily tally things amassed as their value somehow forgetting legacies are moments of a mans time here. And what is earned neither spends, corrodes or can be stolen but lives forever as the smile of one's memories, soul, and heart.