How I loved the girl of my concept,
How she vanishes in thin air,
The countless bridges, inroad, markers, I misplaced,
The concept all suitor’s hold so dear,
The concept foments ideals in a alienated chase of never ending want,
Alienated and far from truth,
The ideals that burn the foreign chase,
The suitor’s last wish,
She weaves and mends a host of broken dreams,
If dreaming means counterfeiting reality I, have done so to perfection,
My guest a stalking shadow, tossed in four directions,
If there is such thing, I shall find it.
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