Robert Addington Wells Poet I do not know?

Eye Stones

Eye Stones
It has come to pass
That we sing our songs
Of yesterday's gloom . . .
Of tomorrow's doom . . .
While trying to figure out
Why we are out of date
Fools of doubt
A mind trapped within a state of time
Where life is but an imagination
Of an empty soul's interpretation
Of a mirage in the desert heat
And we are made of meat!
Able to rot and age with time
Dying from the moment of conception
Like glowing embers falling from the sky
We're already dead, so we can't die, just cry
The clock is running out of tock
The eyes are growing dark--a sea of stones
What's it like to know you are dead?
To know that life is just all in your head?

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