Upon the walls
Their fingertips glide
Unseen their bodies
Gentle through the dust
Of age they wash

Ephemeral, within the catacombs
Echoes missed, they fall
Puddles in the sand
Like the tired soul
Absorbed and reborn
Echoes missed, they fall

Ageless, never youthful
Childless, never children
Laughing, their fingertips
Drag along these walls
Of the apocryphal catacomb
Absorbed and reborn
Like the tired soul

Emptiness is filled
The light is doused
Happiness is empty
And sadness becomes joy

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