Turnstile

Turnstile by Jack A.S. Dunce Have I come to accept The transience of all things: That boulders will be swept by even a small spring When brewing storms outpour And rushing torrents roar? That stars will lose their light As any candle would, When flames become hot white, Burnout a likelihood, As their eternal cores Devour their very stores? That promises you've swore Would last through forever, In time, will be no more, And come to mean never? I still want to believe And yet I feel deceived. --🌼-- ©️pgmr 06/10/2026