The Grinding Time…
The years have churned by
In a thousand thousand choices
And a hundred hundred turns
Until they seem to have ground at6 last to deathly crawl.
I was always surprised,
With how Fast each year seemed to pass
From the time I was a child
Until I have become an old man.
Until near the End,
Every month seemed a week,
And every day but an hour
Blowing rapidly past without fail.
Now I find my Self
Trapped in an Eternity of
Nothing but weary seconds
Agonizing beats of a too tired heart.
Music of the ages
Cries of the wind
Nothing reaches into that Dark Space
Where my soul has retreated from the Pain.
And I have no Tears left to cry.
No whimpers left to give to the dust
That surrounds the ancient fires
Of my war torn Heart.
A single glimmer.
A slight shimmer in the corner of one’s eye,
Is all that is left
Of the Man I once was to be.
So close now.
So very near.
As I sit in my seat,
And wait for the Final curtains
To finish Drawing to a Close….