Lamps

Found yourself on a page of history.
You know you'll manage to ride along.
And i can always hear a song
about you;
of where you're meant to be on the breeze.
I'll try to be the lamp in the foggier chapter
we all know,
when there's ink marks on your knees,
eventually.

How can anyone possibly comprehend?
Blank dust answers of what's unlived.
But cast your eyes to the sky and
time collapses.
I know you're no longer bound by the clock,
days passing with ever more rapidity.
Your splinter.
We'll each find we turn but as singular cogs,
eventually.

If we should fall with words pre-written,
life will be the lyric every time.
Let love tangle memory, and pain
into songs.
And if there's magic in the adventure
we won't feel sad because it could be fun
to start feeling all-
we too shall dance to life's fleeting nature
eventually.

Everyone's story has been sung somewhere
In the comfortable mouth of music
(tending as all music does towards
silent clarity).
I promise you won't end up caught
as simply having visited this world.
You'll see;
time is no more than an old mans thought,
eventually.