The Wyrm of Time

Through chaos flies the wyrm of time Unyielding wingbeats do not pause Untroubled by the pantomime In constance serves no cause Experience shall take its toll And mete out pleasure with the pain The fickle dice will always roll And fall - but they will roll again We husband all our self deceit To ward away the truthful knives Cutting clean and cutting neat They slice into our lives For what we are and what we do Is decoration in the dark Preventing truth from showing through Reality is stark A slender thread suspends all worlds At fragile risk from every knife There is no rhyme, sometimes it fails The slender thread of life. The wyrm of time flies silently We think we hear it ticking by And yet what we fear constantly Is but another lie For we observe, that is our role We are the eyes, we are the mind Perhaps we even are the soul Reality is blind.