Faint Glimmer
When the spokes of a wheel glint sparks in the sun
on a bypassed time-beaten track,
in the rays through the boughs the optical effect
yields sensations of turning back.
If some metamorphosis were to transpire
to twist the thoughts in their frame,
cast a transient sculpture serene and surreal,
a phoenix raised from the flame.
Bygones are bygones, defiantly still
the diminished beat of a fragile heart
simmers down to a glimmer, failing and faint,
as the years bid farewell and depart.
Though the end must advance, by nature unknown,
claim surrender of everything present and past,
faint glimmer of solace, no man is the first
and no man will be the last.
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