Woe, how time
Leaves withered men
Astranged, afraid
And none, again

As every king
As every peasant
Join in ash
Out of the present

Everything born
Everything built
Our ramparts once were
And shall become silt

Bound
I've kept this trice
The chasm
Opens to clench its vice

The desert of passsage
Its omnipotent reign
Lavishly seldom
Lay barren and bane

By the glowing
Gates of the east
To the westward
Banks of the sea

Chronos
Sail free

And then the storms
Rage with inanity
Reduced to whispers
Of plain vanity

Every season
Lacking in reason

Bones
Bent by the years
The clockhand persists
Churning the gears
The futile attempts to
Derange the dancing spheres

Day after day after
Night after night

Grow,
The rift between today and then
Scattering the vestiges
Of long unremembered men
Destitute
Not if - but when?

Instant by instant
So close yet so distant


Desolve
Thy self among the sands of time
Leave
And enter the sublime
Everything spoken
Everything done
All that is lost
All that is is won

All one
Undone
All one
All is none

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