And so the world will spin inside a mind it never knew
To fill it up with earth and bone and even me and you
The speed of light above it all has noted every name
And used the dust of starry space as ink it wants to lay
I see the budding fingertips let go their feather pens
And rest upon the very heads of fever stricken men
The rain has come in many forms to offer some reprieve
But even now can only reach the ones who do not leave
The backs of those who walk away have turned into the mud
A looser kind of figurine devoid of human blood