Overshadowed

When it was an innocent dark night, all my passions lit by the moonlight, 

when I blossomed in my narcissistic dreams, i throbbed for the lone wolf's screams, 

I felt joyous to be young wild and free, to be running the sensory pleasure's spree.

When the sun rose to make the day bright, the moon gloomed to be a tiny white, 

the wise light shone on all of us as one, I realised there's a lot more to be done, 

the joy was in the philosophical banter, not as much in being a reaper as in a planter.

The moonlit joys of young times, and of romantic egoistic rhymes, 

are overshadowed by the burning sun, more meaningful dreams are on the run.

Those wanderer's dilemmas shall now be shun, for more meaningful dreams are on the run.