Laying back in the shadows of life,
I look on wondering if there is an answer to the eternal question why,
As if anything were going to respond,
The flames jump across the litter strewn fields
The wheels of time flow with the grind of friction
Sparks fly but they land on nothing but air.
Where is the life, I do not know,
But maybe that too was run over by the wheels
in this incoherent wrath of fury.
The waves of darts flip back and forth
hitting their targets with precise aim
Pain grips the target with the stanglehold of nerveless steel
The target fights with the courage of a noble
But how much more can it breath the air of death?
-March 7, 1999
Please don't copy without Ben's permission