Who will cherish me,
              When withering autumn leaves
              Are stripped of their golden gallantry
By the biting winter winds.

Writer and reader alike,
               Chasing streams of contradictions;
               Like our will to death, fighting for life.
Am I here at all if I am not here to stay?

Points of purpose in shallow moments;
               Ripped by tides and dragged away.
               We mind the depths,
So to never dig up our dead;

A fading
Remember when.

Time: our great captor
               Tattooed on Earth by currents
               Forever outpacing the fruitless lives of men.

Unearthed and submerged,
               In the instant between
               The angel opening their eyes,
And the tired who resign to dream.