we were beautiful and lived in the future
but the past caught up with us
like with everyone else who tries
to break free of time through architecture
because death is in every straight line
invested in every curve and plane
only apparent when time takes its toll
on the euclidean environments we erect
there is no rampart real or imaginary
bubble however perfect that will exclude
the gradual corrosion then final rush
into dissolution of all sensation and feeling
walls are like bookends and inside
the contents of life a story is bedded
any number of people are there to be seen
to grow up live love and die
who is watching and seeing some say God
others say the abyss no sight
the spaces heroically go up then decay
we arrive and depart unexpectedly
when we are not here there is a hush
like in a dream you might come back
look and say yes here was my table and chair
there was my window with the view
the moon or star rose and i was enthralled
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