Each day that passes
sand is slipping
throught the hourglass

Soon there may be
no-one left
to turn it over

I ask myself
without a future
is this world real?

Or a play
unfolding past
the final curtain?

Walking around
the town it all
seems strangely normal

save for the masks
people are doing
the usual things

Then why do I
feel like I'm looking
at the past

A world of ghosts
actors in some
strange afterlife?

Is this what's meant
by those who say
it's all illusion?

Or is this rather
the last chapter of our
overly successful run?

There's no end to
the beauty that
still saves the world

The children's faces
smiling fresh
as nodding flowers

If I'm a ghost
Halloween will
be here soon enough

I suspect I have
some trick-or-treating
still to do