Could night resolve, and could a potion cure?
Is that important, things that we create?
The beauty that persists between the love and humour
Is something meant to outweigh the hate.

I wish we never tired meant to be,
In twilight seeking words, before and after.
When chances cross a fortune with the mean,
It's Lord with us endures through the hardships.

To cross as much, divergence to the source,
And hope in one direction - vector-fate.
If potions could have always cured cause,
It never would be actually too late.

November 2023