The Marble in a Closet

Burn with the light of a thousand ages

A candle suspended in the dark of space

A marble twirling into nothing of time

Ants bearing the dead on their shoulders

Dust crumbling and forming

Us the descendants of stars

Happenstance unhindered

The skin of flesh protected

The strumming of keys

A soft sweet melody

Rising to those unwittingly

Whose present may have long since died

Sing an aria to a great cathedral

Of which walls and crystal bounds aren’t known

The voice of echoes will fall and quiet

But of its strength, none can wither