The Silent Evermore

bones, bleached bones
we are dead bones and marrow
at the end of the day comes
the spade and the barrow

we fritter time away
unafraid of the reaper
we glimpse as we age
the cost of time’s keeper

bones in museums
bones in the earth
all these remains are
runes in the dirt

no more petty woes
nor bitter grief borne
just the dirt and the worms
and the silent evermore

from this silence we came
and to it we return
one bacchanalian ball
ere a rest undeserved

no more petty woes
nor bitter grief borne
just the dirt and the worms
and the silent evermore

~e