A Pin Drop

Some of us have an uncanny eye
for finding things that open our mind,
further our exploits in the search of knowledge,
something like a gold pin or button.

Continuously we surrender
to what we can never achieve,
perfection merely in name
lest we let it take a leave.
Pause at times to continue the rhyme,
pause at thyme to clear away the weeds.

Pushing forward, doing all one can before…
Yes! Before that fatal moment
when all those things disappear,
when ink is ink, when dust is dust.

Your eye, an empty hole
your mind, a hollow tomb
your heart, a mere carrion,
yet your memory is a womb.
Let it continue, let it grow,
suppress nothing you wish to know,
for by and by the world keeps spinning.