We move along from place to place
Inhabiting a personal space
With pockets filled, easing transition
Smoothing the passage through our missions
That in the end will guarantee
A bit of dust and nought to see
Nothing but random cosmic trace
Of our unique trajectory
We flow like rivers, point to point
The minutes tickle hands of time
From house to school to work and then
We set the clock back over again
And wind the children up to spend
Their days in ways of wise pretend
Where did we come from, why and when
Why did our world begin and end?
And when our sand has run its course
And when we‘ve had our last discourse
We’ll sleep in linens wove of ground
And make no bones, and scream no sound
And do no good and drink no wine
And no one knows the day or time
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