The Decent
Teardrops frozen
On their decent.
They shone the light
Of their whispers
And their lies.
Times once before
Halt them in their tracks
As they ponder
Over their path.
And their track
It is unknown
Until they begin again.
Speeding on downwards
Racing forwards
To the sill.
Their journeys end
Is all that awaits.
And yet
Still they race
As those did before them.
As what else
Could possibly await
Had they chosen
To stay still.
