Lover, lover, the broken window panesdo not signify a means to an end.These tongues of flame, they do not craft the path ahead of you.And when it seems no one could circumventthe stories that lie in front of you, maybe you will find romance in the contradictionof beauty without pain.And as the sweat creeps into your brow, it will be the moment you understandnone of this is certainand what is has never been truly feasible.So you will watch through the frameless glass. You will call the reckoning inevitablebecause things you can't understand must surely be too powerful to put an end to.But when the sun sets in the sky it will rise somewhere elseand someone not unlike you will first open their eyes to a new day.The words you speak now will lace themselves into the racing sunand carry themselves into the light flickering through their eyelashes.So tell me lover,what makes you thinkanything you do now is insignificant?