It can be said that fate waits for no one

It is almost a certainty in fact

 

But darkness with its spring heels waits alone

In a recess seldom visited, we go there in shade

Curtained we go there and raise suspicion

We go when there is blood to sacrifice

We come back when there is left only bone

 

Like the needless prayers of a mother

We disappear in to the warm night gone

And saturate the heavens with cold tears

 

In light we often try to recollect

Where we had just been, what we had just seen

What the coppery taste was on our tongue

We will ignore what we often suspect

Reject what we often feel was a dream

And sit and slowly decay in the morgue