Time is irrelevant--
And the setting sun
means nothing.
'Tis that time in life:
The point of no return.

To gaze in wonder at
the metal beetles
flying across blackening tracks.
The amusing parks,
splashed with colored glee.
The innocence
of a small child's face,
and the grim foreboding one of
the business man.

The feeling comes,
ripping apart the mind
with opposing sentiments.

The enticing fabric of a silky-soft blanket:
desiring to envelop you
in a dreamless slumber.
To give the gift of a final
peace of mind.

The passion to feel the wind
tickle the very follicles of your hair!
Strap yourself in and fly!
Feel the adrenaline,
very much coursing through your body and soul.

The feeling comes,
never fading...
And always persisting.
What to make of it?
It terrifies me--
For to taste the blood of regret
will be everlasting...