That's all we are.
Leftovers from a fallen star.
Not one the same, 
Yet all alike,
On the pointed spike. 
With razor edge
And cutting glow,
And lights 
That flutter to and fro.
With tangled hair,
And matted fur,
And creatures moving
All a blur
The grounds around us
Floating rocks
All with keys,
Without the locks.
With ticking sounds,
And hands that hold
That single second
Preserved in gold. 
It goes too far,
Too far to see,
We'll never know
If we are free
For those who happen
To be bound
Shall never see,
The glories crowned.
The seasons change
And so do we
With times that wash
Like a drowning sea.
As life moves off,
And fades away
The only colour we see
Is grey.

The End

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