To see an ocean of colorless thought. And try to swim to it's deepest
reach. To try so hard, to be held back. Like sand raining from my fingers.
The impressions left, slowly fade away. Like footsteps in the the pages of
history. Made once, the left behind to bare the torrent of the future. The
sunrise is life, the birth of a new day. The sunset is death, the end of a
play. A play in which love is forgotten, as well as the pain. And all
that's left is the darkness of a sorrowful bay. The waters always
moving, always reaching. Longing for something it doesn't understand,
and never could have. And so we're onlookers on an event that's
everlasting.
 
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