Wasted times, wasted strides

Are wasted sons of disappearing sunlight.

Violet petals, vibrant roses

All weathered down by violent frostbites.

Rays of light escape their sources;

A camera lens hunts them to lock.

One more photon escapes the closure

Chased down by impatience of a clock.

We make haste for a time that heals

The tragedies this world exposes.

We run away from a soul that rots–

A flesh that’s caught decomposes.

The aperture..., the aperture..., the aperture of opportunity closes.

Looming clouds, unbloomed flowers

Race each other–they lock their horns.

Five feet of snow claims its birthright,

The other waits for its right to be born

A patient tomorrow will take its own time

Any moment now it’ll grow to be today.

Stacks of pictures you snapped all along

Waiting to be memories on display. (Memories on display.)

We make haste for a time that heals

The tragedies this world exposes.

We run away from a soul that rots–

A flesh that’s caught decomposes.

The aperture..., the aperture..., the aperture of opportunity closes.

We make haste for a time that heals

The tragedies this world exposes.

We run away from a soul that rots–

A flesh that’s caught decomposes.

We make our way to the possibilities

Of happiness the future proposes.

We try before the last door shuts

Robbing us of what it encloses.

The aperture..., the aperture..., the aperture..., the aperture of opportunity closes.