And where the sun rays may fade,
On certain deserted walkways –
After rainy-day parades, –
The youth of summers which slip
Away into a pitter-patter of eternity
Echoing down vacant hallways.
Pale in desolation, Time flees
Like a victim of a bully, or a phantom of the night.
I just know.
I feel myself growing weaker
And weaker still, ‘til I groan arising from chairs
As if a soul, not mine, resides within;
One of a man draped in Destiny
Waving a torn, bloody flag of defeat:
For this One knew its fate,
A moment no sooner, nor late
And he doth surrender and contemplate
Where his flame will tangle through
Another’s eyes, and thus he sees
But cannot take.
As light seemingly slithers amongst us
As time appears to envy something so transient
And coaxingly affectual to just roamers here;
Meandering through thickets of experience mistaking
Wisdom for tom-foolery of a tarnished age,
These bizarre, ungodly creatures consciously construct
A world defined by false ideas and plastic memories,
Thus, inciting the eye to dissect itself until
It sees only that which is left to be revealed in ruin.