ashes from the suns cremation
filtered low on the brow
singing songs and dancing
ever so soft and low
tripping on a whole eternity
of glass blown bowls
and not a moment too soon
dimpled down earth sink
following
withered stalks of hours
sitting on the brink
flesh fire statue
yearning to the moment
crematorium blues
starting to end
silver ray oblique
clearly a sign
moons shadow
looms
ever so slightly
a step
closer to the distinction
further from the casket
blinking eyes
water
lost in the snow
frozen time icicle
revolving sectors
rehashed memories
rehearsed through
the ones forgot
limited imagination
perception xenophobe
great lengths behind
as the falling ash sets
cremate hard
on the following out
just in time for
the circled without
predetermined mass of misfit
washing the heat
away from the corpse
and as the time passes by
we all wonder why
just when we start to get it
why does it fall through
what is the purpose of thought
when it is all wiped away
in the shadow of a casket