James Gatz had a dream of immortality

James Gatz dreamed of Jay Gatsby

The Great Gatsby he was

But in a beautiful girl he met his demise.

Rich became the Great Gatsby

The dark drive of his dream

Gave him the wealth

To enter the elusive scene.

But this scene he could never grasp

His self and his love always out of sight

His love and his life were his death

She framed him on a cool summer night.

His love loved him not

Stunted, were all his ambitions

Both lives were over

He could never go back.

For the old dream was dead too

And of the morning of the miserable night

His body lay shot

All dreams far out of sight.

Gatsby is within us all

Wishing for greatness, wanting his love

And above all to be loved

but in the end to withdraw.

Who is Jay Gatsby?

He is just a man

A man with a dream

But no master plan.

But is he really more?

A reflection of life?

Perhaps to extremes

In his struggles and strife.

We all may not die

In this violent way

But part of us might

Part of us may.

Gatsby's body lay lifeless

But his question remains

The question of love

Is our love in vain?