The Wyrm of Time

Through chaos flies the wyrm of time
Unyielding wingbeats do not pause
Untroubled by the pantomime
In constance serves no cause

Experience shall take its toll
And mete out pleasure with the pain
The fickle dice will always roll
And fall - but they will roll again

We husband all our self deceit
To ward away the truthful knives
Cutting clean and cutting neat
They threaten peaceful lives

For what we are and what we do
Is decoration in the dark
Preventing truth from showing through
Reality is stark

A slender thread suspends all worlds
At fragile risk from every knife
There is no rhyme, sometimes it fails
That slender thread is life.

The wyrm of time flies silently
We think we hear it ticking by
And yet, what we fear constantly
Is but another lie

We observe - that is our role
We are the eyes, we are the mind
Perhaps we even are the soul
Reality is blind.