The wise are often fooled by mad desire,
And dreamers dream of a lovers way.
But in the end there is no fire,
To light the embers of yesterday.
When love is lost there is no grace,
Nor music that can soothe the soul.
There is but the sad embrace,
Of sorrow at what life has stole.
In the quieter thoughts of desolation,
Where shadows fall about the place.
The sands of time and separation,
Are but the sadness that must be faced.
Life is but a field of dreams,
To conjure memories of old delights.
But in the dawning light it seems,
It brings nothing but eternal night.