Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

I’ve fallen
Like spun sugar
A molasses drip
Into the corners
Of the midnight shadow
Who calls himself
Father time

He sits
Bent and bowed
Like earth itself
Rotates only for him
And he can no longer bear
The gravity of us all

I twinkle down
Syrupy teardrops
Coating his wrinkles
Slowly
As if the more he slips
The more I leak
Into existence

He shifts
Backwards
Sholders dislocated
And bent
His limbs no longer responding
To his calls

“Come back to me,
My love”

“Where do I come from?”
Because on the quiet days
I wonder
“Death”
He replies
“Oh”