From the withering trees
To the smallest infant, our numbered days begin perhaps before we draw breath
I don't fear it
But the idea of the hammer falling without stopping is unnerving
No man can stop it
Not with the greatest tools or science
It does not discriminate
In the end, it takes it all away
Eating it up with a thirstless hunger
We are bound to it like a bride and cannot be divorced from her bindings
Yet people say that we shouldn't worry about the end
They themselves puzzle over it for endless nights
For this reason, always say goodbye
Who knows if you will ever see the light of day again
YOU ARE READING
Invisible Ink
PoesíaMy random poetry that expresses my thoughts feelings and experiences. Many of these poems reflect some of the darker times in my life while others celebrate how blessed I have found myself to be. However quite a few of these are not about me. I have...
