Thereâs a clock that you covet. Whoâs counting up all the days stored? Letâs hope youâve earned a score that goes up and up. Look alive; hide your shudder. Was it you that would recall today? So look above like theyâre upset youâre not on the up and up.
Tip-toe in. Bash it all up, nonplussed by the noise. âIâm just out, with a case of the shakes. Donât mean it. Iâm sorry.â
Venture forth. Itâs blocked. Find a way. Venture forth. Itâs blocked, chained. Back and forth, the light dies away. Left the scene unchanged. Only footprints left behind.
Thereâs no culprits, no one to aim the barrel down and squeeze. So take a shot. Maybe someone near wears guilt, perchance.
An act worth what it seems. A line queued to take it on. They trusted what was imbued. We take a lot on faith here. Too few, their names obscure. It seems they might be anyone.
Hereâs more souls. They know me in truth. Iâm cut from the mold. Now itâs just us who gave up on youth to be something old. Itâs enough to be this fruitless if Iâm extolled. Iâm aching for meaning as the aches have grown. Who will emboss where weâve been to, or tend to the moss where weâve stepped? Thereâs a film weâve made thatâs overlong. And when we expire, wait for their cut.
Hereâs all souls. Weâre taken in truth, in debt through the goal. Itâs enough to be less than the ghosts who all shunned the flesh and the bone. Itâs about to end anyway. Though you may have had more to show, itâs ending. Itâs enough to be almost done, perpetually.
See the crowds of no one in line. You were lied to. Thereâs nihil to reach for in time, or any way else you tried. You wonât control this light once it leaves you. Its life and yours must divide or any worth it loaned is slight.
Thereâs nihil to reach for in time, but every time you reach feels right.
Now Iâm through, and possibly I didnât offer up enough. I have a pulse for coffers in the end times. Why not? Time is up.