Feathered

It's never going to happen. Whatever I've been waiting for. Whatever I've been working for. It's never going to happen. My days will end -- perhaps soon -- but the longing will go on forever. 

Others will touch. Others will wake and find their dream a reality. Others will live on memories of sweetness and light. But it will always be others. It will never be me.

Acceptance brings no relief and philosophy is a sham. There is no acceptance, only emptiness. There is no philosophy, only pain. All hope is false hope. I am feathered, but the bed is bare.