the fury and the mire

believe the voices falling down the rift

of fading memory all lost to time

recall the faces touched with soot and grime

in days so clear and calm they seemed to drift

through subtle air and now all is too swift

hardly a moment between every chime

the downslope now but we were on the climb

and had not valued the taste of the gift

so here the choice is made and in the cold

dark of the rainy afternoon each deep

cutting word is truly cruel in its burn

the message is expected we turn old

and each day must bring reasons more to weep

even this day at eve of sunreturn