Swift
 is the passing of time
 swifter than swallows
 the minutes and seconds,
 the hours
 the days
 and the years.

 Inexorably
 reality frays
 at the edges,
 memories and images
 turn to misty tatters
 intent
 relaxes,
 resolve
 dissolves,
 molecule by molecule
 atom by atom,
 till the end.

 Yet
 the beat of the muse,
 entrances your soul
 into maddened rhythm,
 and you expect
 to part the mists
 and dance through triumphant
 to life ever after,

 or so you feel.