Why
He’s sitting there
With a stare out to infinity
The cigarette lit
Burning down to ashes
Between his fingers
He’s not here
To times, to places gone
Young, unbroken, and fit
To a defining moment meaning nothing
An old man lingers
He sits with an unfocused glare
The cigarette burns down to his fingers
Takes a single puff and rubs it out
Lights another takes just one long drag
Till it too will burn down to his fingers
Gods hammer men without care
And don’t care what they turn out
Statues, coffins, or broken wares
Setting them adrift in a sea of time
And old men wash ashore and linger
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