Yet Each Man Kills The Thing He Loves

Early this morning there was a purple dream
the Sun in orange glow drifted over the ocean
setting the wings of Willets on a golden fire.
For a moment I saw Phoenixes everywhere
I saw life, death and the eternal recurrence
and I tried to will you into existence next to me.

Does each thought have a color?
What is color anyway? A perception?
For you it must be blue.
For me, I don't think I actually know.
Lately I have been shrouded in a gray fog
and I need to clear my head and my heart.

I think we each have a choice
but there is a tender comfort in knowing
that a beautiful death awaits everything.
For we must eventually kill .. kill all things we love.