an angel rushing down in the blushing sky
pushing cotton clouds into my eyes
floating like god with a devilish smile
the dreams of the fiends on the bathroom tile
scatter like roaches in the flash of light
that flickers from the ceiling in my mind
with my head in my hands I sometimes cry
I have looked for myself in the reflection of time
and no one was there so it must have been a sign
a sign for my future and that spark sure shined
I realized that life can not rewind
like a child when he watches his pet dog die
now I am swimming in beautiful grains of sand
watching the sun fly golden across blooming farm land
insects jump from the ground to the palm of my hand
who could pretend to be alone with this many friends?
who could complain of the end when the blame
is on the moment when things begin?
such a fickle life us mirror machines live
we are focused on we do not see
and in that moment we cease to exist
our hearts die in the inevitable turbulence
of grasping at the fireflies of thought our minds invent