The Black End

time does not look back upon those still mortal,
for memory serves its cause in absence,
the resting mind asleep in the river of fantasy,
and the voice echoes long in the hollow shell.

where does time follow when time is forgotten on the way,
the hurling darkness too cunning to deceive,
like the broken wisp too quick to catch in the moment's grasp,
and in the black end,does silence peacefully receive.

the cold arms of death reaching over,
to caress the childish face of the dead,
as the loving embrace of a familiar stranger,
in the black end,do the watchful dread.

were nothingness among darkness was all that is,
the black end falls deep and time will remember a name,
death were the faces in dreams unknown,
and yet,the eyes are open and death unto all...