The last lines
lay you bare...

The world a blurry motley
Cd holder of...

There are clouds,
The iron eyes of the gods...

I'm finding it hard
to freeze-frame this year...

I stepped across the old pebbles, the trail is...
of echoes of half-grown footfalls...

The future is pounding
at the door...

Before we take this ride and let it slide
Into the cracks where fall and winter collide...