Old Words

I wrote this about a year ago, found it in a notebook a couple days ago, and decided it's a pretty good representation of where I'm at these days. As usual, I'm impressed by the wordplay but not sure if it means anything.
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Pen to paper at a moment of loss. Lost words for the gains, hard fought and little seen, for the fine line between crashing and burning brighter than sunrises over desolate scenes. To friends, well loved and woebegotten, whose dreams end and whose lives begin, who awaken now and cannot speak for the labors endured, challenges met, freedom gained, identities lost. Lives forged in hostile fire, ideas made and ideals sacrificed; the firm satisfaction of having done so much for so long and its gone.
To back of the mind, the memories that haunt that are one last lost chance and that final goodbye and that wonder if you could ever feel like this again.
It belongs to you.
In its whole steaming self you made it. You owned it. You can love it like there's nothing else to love.
Not true.
Hold on to your dreams spoken swiftly and never forget, its bigger than that. We all know. Let it be. Don't forget.