FINAL FALL

From stones to sickles
To shadows that tickle,
Man had a crazy life.
And what astonishing device!

His ever winding gyre;
A lurid cycle of fire–
An active funeral pyre
For prolonged requiems of desire.

Each paddle a unit,
Each distance a day.
'Every man for himself';
The rear view is only sweet dismay. 

Balance is struck through motion,
Motionless- the cycle falls.
And gravity calls them sooner
Than the curtain's final fall.

-K.G.