Everybody wants to [turn]
& Make the most of [sadness]
Everybody wants to [sleep]
& Make the most of [power]
Everybody wants to [fade]
& Make the most of [desire]
Everybody wants to [rule]
& Make the most of [nature]
Everybody wants to [last]
& Make the most of [indecision]
Everybody wants to [believe]
& Make the most of [isolation]
We are
A date in time, an image-bearer
from god-dust
We are
boxes in the garage
ashes in an urn
We are
charmed fragments of memory
carbon copies clinging closely
We are
cramped names bereft
girded loins and fathomless bleak pangs
We are
out of the blue
& into the black
We are
blood bonds of ancestor landslides
turned into lineages
We are
gone before a blink
faded grass and mist vanishing
We are
rotted out
burned husk of rust
We are
not a failure, my son