Tomorrow Never
Tomorrow never comes, my love,
for time relates unto itself
and all that sheds an earthly shadow
under star crossed skies above.
Tomorrow never comes, they say,
thus worlds collide within the claw
of all that gravity and space
prescribes of living for today.
Tomorrow never comes, we cry
the tears of gleaning transience,
the inconclusive, febrile pulse,
the when and how we die.
Tomorrow never comes, and pain
abated by the penchant cure
of love defined the fleeting spark
for who can know if love will come again?
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