Every pot does have its lid but hey: some of us are Pans
Pan-theistic, pan-optical, pan-tonality!
She aptly called it The Curse of Being Well-Rounded
Neither altogether here nor left behind back there
An overflowing plenum, which even the finest vessel can't contain
Wayward rivers break down dams and flood valleys
Alone in their totality — all lithe outrunning nullity
Alight betwixt high hopes and deep despair
Once we were conjoined; sharing joy as well as sorrow
Yet those yesterdays have gone, with no promise for tomorrow.
Our time together endeth now
May he treat you right . . . Never quite knew how.
Image: Weeping Ofelia courtesy of ~belldandies