Lovely, Lovely

Lost at sea,

Death’s horizon is forever approaching,

Too far from land, and yet too near the brink.

The blistering waves of time

Drag your hollow shell,

Ever closer to the edge of the world.

You dig your wrinkled hands,

Into the floor below,

As it dissipates into nothingness.

Wait! You yell.

Not yet! You beg.

The currents have no ears.

Perpetual motion propels this finite being.

The irony of the situation should make one laugh,

Unless of course you’ve been doing it all wrong.