I used to think that art is a surest way 
To be remembered 
That when I hoist my sail 
To make it to the land of rhymes and lines 
It may catch winds that sway all hearts and minds,
Winds that can reach Parnassus mighty god
And bring me to the isle Forget-Me-Not
 
So I hoped...
But now I am wise
And know well that there is no prize
And no deity that would reward
For passion lost among unworthy words,
For thoughts given away and spent in vain -
As clouds they come and go as a rain
And fall as snow that will surely melt
Under the heat of time...
I know well
That seeds and weeds will grow without us
That no rhyme can mend a broken glass
That songs and bards all die - but the sun still rise...
 
My sail is down
There are no isles.