Listen to the whispers of the ancient sky
She looks your way in a subtle outcry
She misses the way the stars used to lie
Yet she knows each body must be born, move, and die
Each day we’re woven into the celestial quilt
And we go here and there in a lithe, melodic lilt
At the seaside, boulders soon become silt
And flowers, once in unraveling bloom, must wilt
So this is how the dust fills our eyes
Each speck is another of the wondrous signs
Of death, decay, entropy, the signs of the times
Yet we strive to be remembered long after each of us dies
Photo by Aldebaran S on Unsplash
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