Brings many to rush or to lose hope
And fall out of balance from the natural cycles
Which merely flow and turn ever forth.
Believing any end is absolute
Brings some to seek shortcuts or to cheat
Accepting that end overrides means
Except there truly is no end
And one's path is sullied thereby.
The illusion of finality
Pulls our focus to the future
Out there where effort vanishes
Where lives the object of our desire
Waiting for us to redeem ourselves
With its magical touch.
"Come here, and quench your desire",
Says the phantom to our mind.
Finales, though they may be sweet
Or thunderous, relieving, or help one feel complete
None can definitely resolve
The substance in which we are mired.
They are but turns and cascades in this same river
Which holds many prisoners
Of their desire.
Realizing the illusion of finality
Brings one face to face with
The eternal continuity.
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