In memory of Nick Fix
Time, slipping through my hands
like fine grains of sand.
Just yesterday the world was mine.
Now time is the master of my body and soul.
When the things you come to fear the most
consume your days and nights,
when a friend held close
disappears from sight,
the days unravel like spools of thread
weaving a pattern of desperate dread.
Its rhythm slows as the heart begins to frost,
breathing becomes a challenge.
We cannot sew together what has been torn apart,
assess the damage and continue.
Life flees quickly and death appears,
cutting us open and releasing our fears.
It is sometimes only through cruel and selfish death
That beauty may appear.
like fine grains of sand.
Just yesterday the world was mine.
Now time is the master of my body and soul.
When the things you come to fear the most
consume your days and nights,
when a friend held close
disappears from sight,
the days unravel like spools of thread
weaving a pattern of desperate dread.
Its rhythm slows as the heart begins to frost,
breathing becomes a challenge.
We cannot sew together what has been torn apart,
assess the damage and continue.
Life flees quickly and death appears,
cutting us open and releasing our fears.
It is sometimes only through cruel and selfish death
That beauty may appear.