Those faint wind-swept melodies
skim the surface of aspiration’s pond.
Winter Centurions, drowsy in long wait
for the warmth of forgotten ancient bonds,
mimic the fly away ends of life’s equilibrium.
Quietus and cursory as the fall of Rome,
Did you consider the lives you left behind?
Each ‘you’ on rocky footing, weighed with age,
and what age came with youth rushed?
Rapid contemplation was a temporary fix,
decelerating us all to lonely night-walkers.
Waiting for time, wanting for lost hours.
Cats eyes call through dusks disregard,
green seizures capturing and flaring promise,
but overlooked by so many scurrying moments.
There are no notes as we leap through time.
Before we know it, we are vapours adrift on zephyr;
And there the haunting song of expiration echoes.