When, The Wasteland

Love is earned, seldomDeserved. Demanded,But always incomplete, becauseFor the entitled toStruggle equates an inadequacy.We have such wide eyesFor the fleeting high ofSunset love and movie magic,Making desperate uneasyAttempts to petrifyThe fields of Elysium,To eternalize the world beforeThe wasteland.Perhaps, because we know thatAll we have,All you have ever knownWill fade away, one day.These places and times of plentyFall victim to their wintered sleep,Both inevitable andImpermanent. A question ofWhen, not why.No one ever saidPerfect meantForever.