The sun sets,
life leaks away
and the reaper’s
silver scythe is
heralded in silver hair.
Time watches
from a distance,
its steady gaze
holding your eyes
as it keeps pace
beside you.
The dreams you pursue
grow translucent
in your hands,
and there are days you can’t be sure
if it’s them, or you,
slipping through your fingers.
It may yet be that
you are one and the same,
but one has to stay,
and it can’t be
you.
Beyond Panic 