You can’t deny the rights you have and all I can do is try. But let’s not forget ourselves and lose our way or cast that stone before we’ve had the chance to judge. It is, after all, the way in which we evince our stunning charm. I’d love to know that feelings don’t change, that we are all we need. But I can’t force you.
There’s a hill that rises on the edge of the town and casts a shadow when light is low. It holds its place against the wind and stands still and silent in the deepening gloom. But there it is with trees and rocks, dirt and sky. It needs no sign, no truth to grasp. I may tread upon its paths and breathe its breath. The hill does not need me though, it stands in place and guides the clouds.
Passion is like the lake with lapping waves, it comes, it goes, it comes, it goes. But with the wear from years of use, the bank recedes, the edges on the shore cannot maintain their keen and driving force. Pools will grow, subside, and leave behind the fertile ground. Passion lies in waters deep where light can’t touch, where seasons rarely see their change. Still, I won’t force you.
If life be misery, then let’s be miserable together.