the days are met
to find glory
resting within the
cages that once
housed hearts
and those cages
buried beneath
stones ever
reaching for
eternity
yet they too
must succumb
must surrender
to the audacious
advances of
inevitability
never will that
hand be slapped
away
never to escape
that creeping
presence
that slight of
hand played
out on daily
mirrors before
careless eyes
the days are met
not to question
whom has
created the dust
but rather
whom was the
dust created from
No comments:
Post a Comment