No Rest for the Weary

Like the sun;
rousing up for the rhythm,
And now burning,
once and a while
smile at the rhythm
Scatter yourself
and the day,
eventually,
the day recedes
to be blessed by the moonbeams,
once and a while
thinking about the moonbeams
And muster yourself for tomorrow,
eventually;
you'll rouse up,
for there's no rest even for the weary,
unless you say you're done.

Nostalgia and All

I'm aware that there is no more tomorrow,
and I'll grow in the fields of past like broken daffodils;
The sun shall shine
and rivers will become crystal clear,
And I'll thrive on the richness of those similar soils
as the winds signal such presence,
together with the blades of grass
that touch even the coldest heart...
And the only thing that keeps me from it is you.