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We Are All Numbered

When days are numbered what will become of me?

of you, of him and her?

when the salt of the earth has reached the fire

above and below the clever never-ending

and what they call endless finally ends

 

Lost for words to express what cannot be described

as it slowly creeps through the undaunted floorboards

the ones that creak and wither

when the light of day has dropped dead

to its knees; bowing with sadness and yet

maybe with relief

 

I cannot echo what is not heard or seen

when the silence has drowned the very foundation

of the ground we are standing on

As we approach that stage whether we know it or not

ready we must be to face the next stage

for we know not what happens after

when days are numbered