in a blackened hole, surrounded by flashes of  former life
impressed by the lingering fantasy and substance of more concrete time
little flickers of hope snuffed out by gray billowing hands of despair
holding on tightly to an edge that seems to be slowly idling away to a natural rhythm
a beat that calls for any and all, wanting, begging and urging to have you come and dance
finally it hypnotizes, whispers secrets of calm and claims you for its own
white to gray to black and no more promises need be answered