On a loom of time we wait
For an eye to be thread
To stitch the pain
The loom silently works
The spindle turning
Feeding the hunger
Of the relentless needle
On this loom of time does weave
The fabric of life
One side full of colors
Exploding patterns of warms
And cools following behind
The calm before the storm
Sweet bright thread
Turns to black
As the loom of time weaves on
Terrifying patterns ingest the colors
In a shrill symphony of fact
Then in sudden, shattering pain
The thread of life cuts short
The warms and cools
Lock hands with the darkness
In a final waltz
To the shrill symphony of the end

 
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