a snow of white petals falls
on the feet of young love
with no mercy for broken hearts.
a world spins around an orb
that never ceases glowing
except on the old and hungry.
like a silk-worm's stream,
my thought-yarn has been wrapped around
the age-rings of an old oak.
a river current suddenly reversed,
i no longer believe in trust
or pattern.
Rescue is illusion, like a puddle
in an everlasting desert.
Soon a savior will show his face
and Earth will rumble
in disgust.
when repetition and consistency
remove their mask and reveal
death and destruction,
life will resume free of fatality.