sanyasa

  

they arent the sands of time

or the ides of march

I think they are the tides of time

I have, a few stones saved

as the tide swells 

into a thousand years of memory

between the years

I have endless despair

as I fail my parents

my loves

and my children

but now, right now, im busy

failing me

the music swells

and a few hands

guide me into the bright light

I turn around, and theres even a few

for my sins

pulling me back

not many I remember

from the last hundred years

beside me flowing

are so many children

how many children

is too many?