The vast expanse of unconquered life
A foresight of the martry’s strife
remains unseen, untouched, unheard, unbreathed
by your concious mind
It’s bound behind, beneath, before, beside
the innate nature of this passage, time
which mark the points upon the line
and name those truths in this design
But all expirience is not profound
It does not quickly move without
the torporous limitations of the mundane
these are better off as things profane
but some uncover and reveal
the narrow winding paths,
contained within the brains synapse,
of your dreams inherent zeal
But then the folds of age conceal
the mystery of this meager meal
and the gravity and the weight
of this most dreadful fate
come into view again
and slow you down.