We move through the hollows of everyday life,
Shaking and quaking and searching for spice.
Round and round a day we make,
To some we give, others we take.
Mouldering, soldiering, passing ways,
Folded pieces hidden for remembered days.
Solid state and filled with cracks,
All full things have a point which lacks.
Truth is a truth, a lie is a lie,
So it goes 'til the day you die.
Copyright © Clayton Poole