Fleeting Moments -- Prune

The fleeting moments of my youth are spent,
Blissful joys that knew not grief nor sorrow.
Flippant ways I now in this hour repent--
The dark night's fears interred by the morrow.
The sweet mysteries of youth have been solved
Savored dearly, they melted all too fast;
Despite better reason, I too resolved,
Drunk with blind guttony--they could not last.
Onward I trudge, knowing this chapter's end
Has reached its final, bittersweet binding.
For my darkened eye could but now portend
An ambiguous, alien horizon.
With Time's vain stride did these sweet moments fly;
My soul a child, its fire Death's virgin bride.