Everything Is A Secondary Event To Loving You Poem by Mark Heathcote

Everything is a secondary event to loving you.
You are all that matters in the end.
So, remember this: my words.
When you're dying in your bed alone
Breathing heavily through your heart beating steadily still.

Everything is a secondary event to loving you.
Because nobody is going to step into your shoes.
And take on your binary form.
When is your next thoroughfare?
There are all these dark roads you see everywhere.

Everything is a secondary event to loving you.
That master's hand is clutching a flower.
He hasn't yet thrown it away.
That master's hand is clutching a flower.
Look, there's a flower in every grain of sand.

Everything is a secondary event to loving you.
You're a songbird in a woodland bathing in the light.
You're singing like a nightingale about every grain of sand.
How when it's melted it turns to crystal
And pours a liquor one hundred per cent through you once again.

Pure as gold, but is it truly you?
Will it shatter and bleed all colours of this world together?
And send you out of your mind.
Or will it glue you back together better than ever?
Because everything is a secondary event to loving you.