There she lay no longer here but not there,
Here we stand observing that it is not fair.
Yet the universe remains impartial to us all,
It cares not if she rises or a corpse does fall.
The ruination of time is a path beset with pain,
Even Houdini could not escape its insipid drain.
Outrun it for longer ye certainly may attempt,
The longer it takes, the greater your contempt.
The prison of the in between is the true horror,
It binds the scholar, the hero and the explorer.
Anchored to dying flesh, denied transcendence,
A final reminder of our lack of independence.
So we cushion the pain with potions and tonics,
Only to forget the lesson in spite of mnemonics.
Life is but a wave of splendor and circumstance,
Live it while the universe affords you the chance.
Meanwhile she lays there, beyond our reach now,
Unable to enjoy a laugh, a book or even some chow.
We said goodbye granting her permission to leave,
When she departs we’ll have our chance to grieve.
Until that moment arrives we are all just trapped,
Moving forward aimlessly even though we are sapped.
Within this spiral betwixt the pallid and the pain,
We all suffer, both the dying and the not yet slain.