I saw a diamond on top of a hill,
and I climbed higher.
I reached for that diamond,
and instead of giving up,
I climbed higher.
After frozen time and forgotten fingers,
I touched that diamond,
And it told me something.
It told me that all of my dreams
Were the things of movies, of stories,
It told me that the things I felt
Were the things born, gestated, in memory,
In a simple fascination culminated in desire;
A bloated realization that the things I loved
weren’t real (that she wasn’t real); only a mirage steaming from a road
paved from a material stronger than the hardest metal,
but something less than a shimmering, road-bound diamond.