Yet to Come...

How unjust life is
as I wander with hands outstreached
seeking truths and morals
in a darknness where none exist
a society who lives by it's own rules
will crumble beneath it's own folly
the civilization which dictates and denies
the pleasure allowed on this plain of reality
life is but a pretense to existance
waiting but a pretense to fufillment
something to fill in the eons
between chaos and serenity
between now and forever
our lives are a result of higher whims
and to love is to find their blessings bestowed
to be denied love is a painful curse
the jealousy of fate
to be made to wait is a joyful sorrow
for anticipation builds the flames of passion higher
I live ever for tomorrow
yet wish it never to arrive...

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