All at once in a million places,
Hung upon a million faces
It dances in the fetid streets,
Fed by those who have none to eat
Allowed to run free and wild
Held close by mothers of a distant child
With a grin beholding every race,
Through the ash of war & the lives it wastes
Unfettered by the need of haste;
It bides its time, sits, and waits.
Not only for the ills to come,
But in life's trials left undone
For there at the end of life,
It feeds not on the chains of strife
But of the heavy burdens of regret,
Only what has been, can one forget.