Soon

Telling lies like truths,

Enshroud the gospel of reason,

In a fate with inevitable sadness.

Trying, breaking,

The way is shut like eyes.

Trembling down in weakness,

Made common by pain,

Undone futures wanting.

Shifting in the hot sand of time.

So passing hours,

Do dial and creep,

Losing the war to decay,

But softly.

A chance is random as whim,

With talented hours drifting,

In a lot with broken pieces,

Cast like bones on the floor.

Reading peace,

The tranquil lapse of folded emotions,

Contemplating a day full of sun.