Sometimes I wonder what is it all about,
Sometimes I meander to find this unknown route,
The mind pulls at the reins of the heart,
In that moment, I fall apart,
I lay there in those scattered flashes,
And suddenly I cease to exist,
The fire keeps burning just to become ashes,
For the pleasures they must resist,
He grasps at the glimpse of her audacity,
It was dark but his light must set her free,
So, he ever so casually pretended to see,
The darkest of edges inside the pockets of her soul,
But was it even in his control?
He didn’t even try but she felt complete, almost whole,
So when I say she was meant to find him,
Amidst chaos, madness and may be on a whim,
To finally be able to lift up the dim,
While he was not a generic, almost eccentric,
Almost content, she dwelled to admire his authentic,
The work of imagination or mere art if I may say,
Who could have imagined for it to be this way?

It was meant to be.

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