Dancing on the sounds of silver salts, Where shallow steps find narrowing faults. Creation; (The)destruction Nothing true but what is that is not and may, Never Be The sounds of voices dance in the shadows of open- thoughts Left like lullabies Sad; often; children’s tears tear at the stone walls of their Parents hearts. These cautious steps never meant to start, but who is it to mind our minds minding ours as well as theirs. Their tears sting like poison words. It, began To Occur: slowly. These tears were never pain, but pain more distant; death in life was born anew You perhaps I never knew. The pain all children go through. Silver salts glisten in the moonlight, while children close their eyes to greet their sorrows like exponentially awesome visions of past lives; sad. Sing this hearts sad song of time ticking past our open window minds.