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The sky h-irony.
That, the Sage’s, priceless advice,
of which, we held;
unique.

Can, now, be grasped,
by, the handly masses,
at, naught shekels,
a piece.

Is. A travesty.
Depravity. The gravity.
Forces us humble and bangs us,
crashing, to the Earth.

But, in the blink,
of a, Universe’s, dream-lit eye,
we, won’t be, matter, at all.
We, won’t, even, matter in a flash.

We, will simply be;
bonely words, aflame, to ash,
dug and buried,
for the dirt.

© poormansdreams

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