Vienna

---

Ambition is a frightful thing,
Rose-tinted binoculars that eat
Into juvenile eyes and inspire
Vain and foolish dreams.
A curse on all wide-eyed romantics
Wishing to imprint upon this fragile earth.

I have lived no more than a child,
Been made a plaything of the fates
And choked with dreams so vast
They could fill the very pages of eternity.
But what am I if not powerless,
My own fate resting in the hands of all but me.

What would remain, in this universal moment,
If my half-baked existence were washed away,
Smoothed over like an inch-deep footprint
On the great dunes of time.