Eternal

I want to be the ink-stain,

On your numb fingertips

I want to be the poetry

Escaping your nimble lips.

 

I want to be the paintbrush

In your rugged hand

I want to be the song

By your one-man band.

 

When all ceases to exist

And nullifies to none

I’ll remain in the saga,

The story that you spun.

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