Clocks And Calendars

Crumbling cathedrals
of emotion and thought,
faintly glowing
in the ever-widening
expanse of the years;
I choose to dwell here,
in the twilight
of clocks and calendars,
where only ghosts
glide through the emptiness
of days gone by.
Colors vanish,
everything's painted
a dim shade of blue
in the mist
of half-forgotten scenes
that clouds my eyes,
blinding them
to the beckoning light
of the future.