|Death is a slow drum beating
||[Feb. 22nd, 2016|12:37 am]
Death is a slow drum beating at the rythm of ones heart beat against the day.|
It is the wilting after growth.
Long into the days and nights and revolutions of life will you find the drum beating.
It is ceasless.
Every moment one closer to a contemporary inevitability.
This may not always be the case at least in the way we consider it now.
Still if a chance a moments possesion could disturb or flux that which spent its hours in reference to the object that is mapping and viewing.
We take upon the day and burn our stilled candle for this moment and this day is ours to burn.