Is worthwhile, Is value.

Here in voids of water,

I usually am in solitude.

And here, about time and life,

I suffer little.

In half magmatic seclusion,

Little warmth of my brow.

All heat is raised upon my naked body.

And this, digression in youth,

Lost once more.

I, the listener of Happiness,

Need no more time than I am approved,

Yet I squander the little I am granted.

And what life of mine,

Was ever so lowly?

None shall overstep the line,

Drawn in the sands of time,

By the leaders, in our minds.

For now, cracks brighten the doorway,

And I know this time is short.

The ambivalence of rest,

Is distorted by my want again.

You, you see,

You are the springtime to my winter.

And in lust I hold near to this value.

In isolation I hold near to your value.

In moments we find secrets,

And this surreptitious cost,

Is worthwhile,

Is value.