The faint unruffled ringing that remains,
like a watch, an alarm that mechanically maintains.
A sturdiness in sound, a steadiness in stain;
but in its faded familiarity, it stays arcane.
Yet unlike clockwork, it incorporates ignorance
of the moving minutes, the hours’ difference;
It owns a knowledge that knows neither existence
nor the strength of its seeming significance.
Like children tossed up high in a gentle grace,
bursting with bliss of floating in space;
Alas, in truth only awaiting a fall to replace,
awaiting its arms for a sinister embrace.
In our passionate desire for personal reward,
Consider that both rags and riches will afford
the lingering reminder of nature’s accord,
predestined, predictable, but in its inevitability ignored.
’Tis on your doorsteps, be gracious and attend
to what is now your sole companion and friend.
The bleeding will start, the breathing will end,
For this was where life ended, and where death once began.