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The Fading



The most beautiful day is the day you were born,
but you are unable to appreciate it.

The joy of setting out
is independent from any idea
of destination.

You live long enough to see that all your dreams—
all those beautiful dreams—
were impossible.

The truth of the dream is in the fading,
and we will never accept that,
never accept that the true and the wrong
are two sides of the only thing available to us.

The second most beautiful day is your last,
but you don't have time to appreciate it.

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.