Grey Sky

People I became over ages.
Foolish sages.
Slave to wages.
Humble servant to whomever
gave a glance.
Always ready for a game with chance,
burning bridges to
swim in fate’s brave waves.
Summer days, bare of larder,
footloose, daring perils
over zealous ardor.
Winter nights, warm in fantasies’
strong embrace, kept safe from waking.
Betrayal trills a theme distance can’t quell.
These stories, myths for believing,
self-cast spells to conjure meaning. 
Selling candles to pay that piper, fear.
What is the price of surrender? 
Gauze white, ghost quiet.
Flock and lost agree:  all born to die.
Years dissipate. I wander under roving sky,
breathe greying air.
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