Above the workspace on my desk.
I so truly hate the fire of time
Burning all we’ve come to know
Taking cherished lives away
Removing marks they made in snow
Crushing carvings stone by stone
Obliterating every trace of us
Unplanned, stochastic obsolescence
Devouring mindlessly duration’s reach
Existence but a warm respite
Between two rapid blinks of indifference
To the eternal, cold, dark suffering
Of nothingness once being has been tasted.
I so truly hate the fire of time
Burning all we’ve come to be
In each our short embodied
Fight against the flame.
/ W B Kek
