childhood grace

Our world is measured in childhood grace,

Future states, as yet unfolded,

Birth the words, that claim and hold us.

Cold consumer, of the void: 

Time, it strips our nous and voice, 

Memories fail and slowly rust,

Our universe, it falls to dust.

Life, life, a fairy tale, 

Whispered on the night,

Dreams are prone to fade away,

When silenced by the predawn light.