It fell from sight as I drifted along
Words that I wish had flown from tongue
Gestures from heart that swayed from path
Call of duty that that my legs dodged
They yet but hollow me from inside
I wish I could but clock my hands
To a better suiting of presented opportunity
And set straight the tilted balance
For I had the weight but not the ways
Lingering thought remains of times
For time can only bury the dead
But the bones stay even after the skin
Deeper into the crust, below a layer
Of hardening clay that forms rock
Dug, by a shovel purposeful enough
The air forgets what once inhaled it
But the soil always knows the thorns
Entrenched in its flesh, deep down beneath
All that time has treated to similar fate
Because nothing dies without the man himself