Logic

To be the center of happiness
is to be the calm in the middle of a maelstrom.
Wishing for daylight, wishing to understand a flawed logic.
A diamond that sparkles in all the wrong places.
Perception becomes reality, and reality is the nightmare of lost hope and broken dreams.
The rock begins to shatter and fall into the deep ocean of question and solitude.
Like an empty lamp, like a star in the sunshine, the idea begins to fade and is lost in the
hustle and bustle of a never-ending mob.
You are you. I am I. There can never be a We. That much is clear.
Quietly whistle a tune for a smile that is nothing more than a shared knowledge of God's universal language.
I cannot trip the light fantastic when the moon is my constant.
Fall.
Fade.
Forget.
And in the end...finality.