It hurts a lot when feeling doesn't match
With its dear object praised in blind delight
For it expects in turn some understanding catch
In order to make sense in world's cruel spite.
This feeling is a symbol of good faith,
A hope for life be lived in full and to succeed,
A target tangible should one attention pay,
A mighty force that lets with everything proceed.
Yet if unneeded, having any sense at all
Lost in daily routine unwinding maze
It's self-destroyed by self-conniving stall,
In vain attempt to warm the other sets itself ablaze.
__Well, let it burn then, fall downwards and crash.
__Once matching object's found it'll be reborn from ash.
What happens with unmatched feeling
© Copyright: Дима Руцкий, 2007
Свидетельство о публикации №107120801366
Свидетельство о публикации №107120801366
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