The future that never will be, the present that just is
In the twilight of your years, I saw your form so content and happy. In the summer you never reached, there is nothing left of you but flowers and the scent of spring.
But yeah ;a;, the thought is of course, the future where hyacinthus lives and gets to grow old. And Apollo the god enjoys the presence of a man he loves so much and loves still. Hard cut to days after discus incident and there’s is no more of the spartan prince but flowers. The future is night, where despite no sun, you can still see and admire. And the ‘present’ is day, where under the harsh sun there is nothing to obscure the truth that he is gone


















