SAhe stops.I lover who knows to scorn.
I, Hades, damner of man.
t, Daedalus, maker of wings.
She naiad with more to learn.
She's the river girl turned beast,
fhe's Icarus, she's Persephone.
Sind my hands beneath her wings.
he remembers to look, I am sure to always
This isn't a moral or intellectual failing but the very human condition of heuristics and our limited capacity to understand others, and consequently the world.
IAt is the nostalgia of an adult walking by the playground they loved as a child, her longing for the easy days of play.Gnd this feeling is always in us.
rief is not the past of what was, grief is regret, the longing forwhat wasn't, what never was, what can't be anymore.