They become such a lost concept
In the way humans search
For immortal happiness,
So easily lost in the belief
That some fragment of them
Can live forever-
And though we remain mortal,
Small and limited in contrast to the universe;
We dream as if we own the constellations-
Bit by bit, we give begin to accept
The bounds we are confined within,
Yet there stand some things
Which do not aim for infinities,
Because they’re built so beautifully
Into their own mortal vessels
That infinities seem much smaller-
And who even knows the value
Of a concept invented by finite minds.

Sapphire Red


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