muddy rivers of fading light

the ghosts of my living past 
cling like light passing through strange summer leaves

today's tears have yet to fall
and the spider's lonely web strangles my death with passing dreams,
We are not empires that crumble into sodden ground
humans are too
small for that,

liars
spreading wild the seeds of ruin,
flowers never turn away
wild geese will always follow
a pattern

hands and fingers ring a division bell,
echo inside my soul,
my begging bowl
filling

old muddy rivers
like music strung to a black-holed sun,
only the melody stays the same
but I've forgotten the words.