to stare out in that wilderness
where trees and thorns do grow
where life is unforgiving
and the flowers never show
as the ashes turn to ashes
and the dust returns to dust
and life deals out indignities
and you wonder if it must
the beat of time marks out its span
to the music of some master hand
through the vagaries of fortune
to whom none are imune
with the irony a justice which no one can deny
as you learn there is no answer to the perennial question why
these chains bind yet around you and cannot be denied
when the reaper comes a knocking you can run but you cant hide