No, Dear friends, it's not about drugs
Pure, exhilirating, scintillating emotion.
Never went away, was just forced out
Like a campfire not quite finished
With it's purpose, not quite through
Spending it's kinetic energy
Yet they pour dust on it
It's served their purpose after all
Chasing that fire night and day, day and night
Trying to find that beautiful inferno that was
Tiny conflagrations here and there
Don't serve their purpose quite like they used to
Keep searching for that feu de joie
But you can never re-ignite the blaze
And bask in the incandescence...
Quite like the first time.