Younger days are done, old friend,
Impaling skies are ready,
Leaves curl down for light little naps
As the winter sets in steady.
The maestro sends the stars in now
Whether spinning or cupped in firmament,
Rainbows spend their treasures, proud
Neither temporary nor permanent.
And all about, at the end of Earth,
Whatever war or corporation that prevails,
It crowds through the brick, the stone, the wood,
Mud and fire resetting what fails.
The dust may tumble and settle, unfurl
next to rusty old decadent worlds.
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