Sursesen

Time dragged on, Withered fingers languidly moved in circles Casting dream fragments back into the air, Only to resettle in a different pattern At the edges of his mind. His thoughts strayed To souls arrayed in resplendent glory, Myriad spirits en masse ascent. He had never liked the work, The look of fear, Or worse yet of ignorance. He had never stopped though, The end justified the means. Contemplated radiant streaking lines, Blurred faces coursing to fate. He frowned at remembered tears of joy. Time dragged on. Withered fingertip tapped absently On tired lips pursed in thought. Memory fragments flared To fade then fall Collected like sediment in layers, A mosaic of lives. A cacophony of voices That had slowly dwindled Till silence, no sound Save that of the wind That passed through the emerald Canopy above his head. His mind wound and wandered, But to where? He frowns to know purpose.