everything ages,
slowly gives in
to dust, decay and gravity.

ever pulling us down,
calling for a return to clay,
weighs our soles.

long to rise
above the clatter and clutter,
clashes and clouds.

heavily ladened,
weep themselves wispily dry.

dry as stale breadcrumbs,
battle-worn from entropic war,
gravity brings me to my knees in the rain
and i live again
under grace.