Sense
___________________________

When all else is gone
dead, dust
not a soul to breath
nor to imagine
to grasp or build
nor destroy or hurt
there will be two things
the distant memory of what I embodied
to your magnificent race
and the ever flowing continuum
of space
and time

maybe when she should choose again
I could come back to this river
but I will wait
we will wait

time will always be here
we its children