Youth is escaping me, age creeping upon my body as a skilled hunter--Timeless and ageless orion marauds my skin of youthful zeal. My pores leek of strain and reek of decay.

And i am only reaching the twentieth year of life.

My joints ache and my skull throbs of tiresome distress. Rest is what i seek, but have reached to no avail. It seems just out of reach at each cornerstone; at this point, i survey my surroundings for a time of peace. The ambiance of silence never lasts for long, and slips past unnoticed.

And beauty speaks before me, seated upon a ledge just out of view. I am unable to properly survey these circumstances. Where are the lines, and are they even worth crossing? I could not just throw away such a reward as yourself, friend. Not for anything.