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Moving On
tendrils of time
dance through warm bodies,
glowing,
and fading,
and bursting with shapes.
they inhale life
as ecstacy seeps from their lips,
changing,
igniting,
all that they touch.
echoes of thought
trail in their wake
leaving nothing behind
but
words
that crumble
slowly
to dust...
and seconds don't think
to look back and save them,
too busy
laughing,
running ahead.
tendrils of time
move through cold bodies
uncaring
unthinking
unable to stop.
they run over nothing,
when all else is gone,
wondering,
maybe,
if they did something wrong.

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