Ever winding withering, and thoughts that fade to gray,
Dreams that sprang before the sun but slowly crept away,
Houses built inside our heads of memories in stone
That shatter when they reach the top and find they are alone,
Footsteps wind around the paths that lead us far abroad,
Flowers bend and shake their heads between the wailing nods,
Crisper clouds that gather here are cracking as we speak,
They'll fall to earth so fast and dear, upon the waves that reek,
Deserts groan while they elapse the time that there hangs thick
The walls are built of solitude and laid with stone and brick,
The smallest breath of weakest life might send them tumbling down,
For how are they to stand alive at the first of all the sounds?
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