The old ones.

 
                                          I look up into the sky
 as the stars burn like acetylene torches.
                                      goodnight my fellow bodies.
 I can't but wonder all that you have seen
 As I look again
 you blink
 in each blink
 what ages you must have seen
 Like gods you hang in the sky
 the oldest of us all
 yet passing
and fading
 all too familiar
 to us who watch you
 in the last hours of the day.
 Time runs through you like a current.
 You call to Father time, to the Horae
 Rest well
 old ones.