Untouched

The sea of words has turned to sand;
A tired wind retreats.
Why must I feel this weariness?
Erasing all belief.

This curtain call of summertime;
This isolated beat,
Is drumming through a pleasure-dome
Where love is bound to meet.

I struggle to convince myself;
I struggle to believe,
That all I ever visualized
Is just beyond my reach.

I contemplate a better life,
Where love is truly found.
The entrance to Elysium
has left me underground.