Moments piled in pursuit of truth,
The climax never lasted,
It was and continues to be a myth,
He devoutly prayed for his dreams to be revealed
Yet he remained a paradox
A loner striving for company,
His dream remained unorthodox,
like beautiful rose proving thorny.
If truth was love, what was missing?
What left him wounded deep down?
The delusion slowly resolving
A sparkle of hope begun to dwell on its own
Leaving the quest with an uncertain resolution,
Was it the end? , or a lost love illusion.
