Each day, time drops a tiny death at your door

Each day we live within it, desperately held

and climb through together to the far side of morning

The patience and perspective of a thousand tired lives, given over to grief and then sweet blossoming growth

Our endless hours, strung above, from low beams of hope

Each day the candle burns a little lower down

But the warmth on your face is there all the same

The scramble and the fumble for a purpose and a place, to countenance the ticking clock

Each day, time drops a tiny death at your door

And out of it, we carve an expanse

Each day, time drops a tiny death at your door

But in the end, my friends, everything will mend