Into the tides
it watches us pass,
immune to our cause;
Memories in the dust,
ruled by its winds.
A filling void
floods the dungeons.
Washes the loss
we never had.
It is gone,
when we are done.
Full of life,
ready to die.
And then we’ll come
as ever we were,
pieces of game
ready to play;
In this faraway present
we call the future.
Boris Matijas 