for everything there is an end

chasing down dreams,
on one-way, dead-end streets,
the moments come and go,
cool autumn nights wait forever,
like distant winter storms, poised
to pour liquid electricity into endless
teenage skies,
back seats and pre-game rituals,
followed by post-game letdowns,
fade into the oblivion of lost moments,
as life-changing, earth shattering decisions,
mean very little inside vast
kingdoms of empty space,
where nothing comes,
and nothing goes,
I have sunk to the depths,
I have rose to the heights;

flow is the key,

you can lose your momentum,
but never lose your flow;

invisible chains, fall like leaves

before the gathering storm,
there is a death of which
no one knows,
somber days lie ahead,
for every beginning there is an end,
for everything there is an end;

in life, there are only so many,

so many days,
so many years,
so many thoughts,
so many words,
they slip through our fingers,
like water running to the sea,
we forget more than we can
ever know;

for everything there is an end.

.

.