Still Comes the Last Train

Every star is born
Every star shines
Every star is shorn
Of its bright light

What gives us wings for flight?
What puts us forward in sight?
What passion stirs us to fight?
What buries us beneath night?

We are here for awhile to make a mark
We are here for awhile to sail our bark
We are here for awhile to snap a spark
We are here for awhile then left in dark

So soon as we are born we die
So soon we live out our own lie
So soon we find truth and cry
And our whole existence deny
. . .
Or, at least, this is what we try
As time moves on with our sigh

Ah! But even the majestic moon waxes and wanes!
Trying to hold on to what we must forfeit is insane!
Still strain to shine your light
In the smog and bog and blogs!
Still comes the last train that we must all board
Still comes the last train to carry another hoard
Yes . . . still comes that train

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