I chased a rainbow in my mind,
Both over seas and under hills,
But nothing did my seeking find,
Except the source of worldly ills.
I tried to regulate the flood,
Produced by forty days of rain,
But, once it’s spilled, a drop of blood
Has no way back inside the vein.
To think I gave up truth for this!
I must have been wrong in the head –
Like he who sold Love with a kiss
And hanged himself till he was dead.
But I am not another one
Inclined to die by their own hand;
So, now my working day is done,
I fall like night upon the land.
Photo by Zdeněk Macháček on Unsplash
