Tip toeing through the shards of darkness,
ever searching for the surety of solid objects,
creeping souls within decaying bodies,
reality is what we seek in a glimpse of transient sleep,
lies and slumber,
the antiquity of numbers,
naked bones swimming in a sea of obscurity,
nothing really matters
as the last grains of sand trickle through the glass phial,
stone pillows await our weary heads.