We are the walking bones
of eternal death
  as flowers bloom
on wilting vines
Flames burning
on the wings of butterflies
  pinned to the wheels of fate
Dreams of dreamers
floating along
  the cosmic river
of eternal stars
Small beads of sweat
on the forehead
  of lunatics
who think themselves gods
Brief flashes of illusion
and illustrations
  of hell and heaven
painted on fragile walls
We fade into dust and crumble
  as time and love and death
Are the marrow within
our bones of life