Seedless days

Seedless Days

Somewhere lost in time,
lies the somber face of life
once lived in a furious pace
to have it all and yet
to leave so much undone.
Days of youth gone under
as if fate were so, all its candor,
its resolve converted
in the bygone illusion of having done it all
and yet, not much.
Passion was the trend of youth,
defiant pride and seedless deeds.
A time it was to live from day to day,
to tread along, unknown the path,
quick the flesh to run its gigs,
love, we called the fever of an instant.¿

On wasted paths of yesterday
I walk again, perhaps too late,
but yet, in hope of rescuing fate
from dying nameless death again.