Sling swings of a summer fling that in time diffuses and boils into the soil - oh, but the chase was worth the tears, the frustrations, and the fears of never living it down.
But gather this, my obscene realization, that once obtained it is taken for granted.
The smiles, the joys; when one would have run miles and miles, it is then gone with the wind, and the chase is no more.
The honeymooners last a few decades, the frustrated breathe eternal.
But what do I tell those whose blinded faith engaged them so soon when they lied: "I just knew"? My point becomes senseless as their chase was not discontinued.
Flaggerdust!
Back to the start of my equation.
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