Drains

A season bleeds through iron air We marched until the sound wore thin Names fall back into the cold Nothing answers from within Step by step the weight dissolves Echoes drag behind the will Hands once raised now lowered slow Even silence bends and spills We were many, now we blur Lines undone, the center gone Voices stretch and lose their form Holding on, then not for long A hollow moves beneath the ground Pulling breath from bone and skin What we built becomes a trace Caving softly from within Rhythm cracks and drifts apart Steps forget what they began Time unthreads its final shape Leaving less than what we planned Almost gone Almost none Air remains Without a tongue Something stirs beneath the drain Not a voice we knew before Soft and distant, undefined Pressing at an unseen door We are emptied into change Not erased, but rearranged From the hollow, something stays Not the same, but not the same