Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2018
My body is a drop
of matter in the great cascade
A little pyre that burns atop
the soil in an entropic haze

These hands were granted me
without my warrant or entreating
but by its whims, necessity
sets all our hearts to beating

See that's the thing with entropy,
you cannot force it in reverse
make use of your short time to be
we burn like tinder to the hearse
Rory
Written by
Rory  23/M/Scotland
(23/M/Scotland)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems