Something fades, like a wick on an expiring candle. 

As though the sun has set; though not to rise again.

Something is missing; like a torn page in a book known by all. 

It seems as though it wants to be fulfilled; but to no remorse.

Something is rising, but I choose not to know; I wish not to feel.

This is not right, but it feels just as so.

Why can I not hide this?

Surely I am not a wave crashing desperately on a sandy shore-I can only hope to explore one day.

My feelings do not fade; instead someone burns the wick again, allowing the fire to beat once more.

Surely this can not be true; this must be a dream I can not yet grasp.

No this must be true, my hands grasp anothers, making my heart beat with a melody I have yet to learn.

My mind melted, and poured into my heart allowing an almost drowning melody.

I must keep calm, for the winter sky is yet to fall with snow. But who knows? Maybe the snow is yet to notice the winter sky.