The edges of eternity unravel
as dark matter flows towards the moon
and particles of dust slowly travel
towards the sky, like a lost balloon.
Souls stand at the world's edge
and stare into wraith-like questions
that flow through the rustling sedge
whispering their ghostly suggestions.
Incorporeal beings laugh in the dark
at the cruel folly of human life
and sentinels stand, grim and stark
bodies rigid in their eternal strife.
Clouds dust the deep ebony skies,
cloaked in the embrace of mother Nyx.
And the world bids its final goodbyes
as it is banished to the shores of Styx.
Gentle hands gather the poppies
and hold them in lavender sent capes
where the petals fall, millions of copies
transforming to stars in their escapes.
Nyx, night personified.
Gold trophy winner
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