Scorched

Here we sit, we spin away
Twenty-four hours carved from clay
Then dawn resets the clock again
And life resumes its quiet spin

We fill our days with work and chores
Our nights with dreams and metaphor
We gather on beaches, build castles of sand
Pretending the tides aren’t erasing our plans

Songs bloom from speakers
Parrots scold trees
Children chase kites
While adults chase beliefs

Yet sooner or later the ledger is tallied
The curtain is drawn, the orbit unraveled

For even the sun, in its brilliant defiance
Must swell to a furnace and burn down its clients
The red giant will crown the finale’s call
And scorched Earth will take us one and all.