The Essence of Time

How do you describe a poem... I invite you to read it and judge for yourself.

You ride the rides to the highest sky,

seeing birds flapping wings nearby,

everything within you calmly waits

for the joy each one anticipates...

but nothing comes...there is a price...

you are dead...you must sacrifice.

There is no form the wind may blow...

No pleasure the box of bones may know.

Only the cold and lonely grave.

You ride each carousel horse around,

listening for the carnival sound,

only a bleak and angry wind howls,

chilling your once-alive bowels.

Trying to tell its secret to you.

But with ease it blows right on through.

No dip or spin or twirl around

evokes a response - nor a sound.

Only the cold and lonely grave....