by Dean Jolly

Created on: November 04, 2008

High walled entrence at the foot of a hill

Walk past row upon row of cold shaped stone

Six feet beneath the ground so cold and still

In which lie boxes of forgotten bone

The rats gnaw on corpses without faces

Making a meal of fateful transcience

Hear them scuttling through dusty rib cages

They are dancing a deadly dalliance

These boxes of our own mortality

Do beckon while calling us from the grave

This enevitable totality

It Sweeps over me like an endless wave

Live for the day from the dawn of your life

For Time sweeps by like the blade of a knife

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