At the close of day I find
The views of life are different some
And when we long to lose ourselves
We run around to where we’re from.
And all the while we think we see
But every corner that we round
Shows us views that couldn’t be
And yet we follow like a hound.
I think that in the longing rests
A beauty that we soon forget
And though we think we know what’s best
It never yields the safest bet.