In Fleeting Nights

In Fleeting Nights
by Tatiana Pahlen

In fleeting nights when you awake in doubt
You're nothing more in life but a withered leaf.
Yet, endless twirls keep you away from grief —
Some days you tumble lower, some days higher,
Failing to grasp, what are these flaps about?
Is this the way one really seeks to live?

I gather others' bliss in shallow myths,
I read these parts of happiness aloud.
But the inner voice that keeps my spirit sound
Suggests a truthful blab as good as lying.
Where are the perfect mates, Adam and Eve?
If someone sees them, could you point them out?
I'm looking for a chap with a missing rib.