Through Time's Veil

When everything is said and done,
and there is no more time for sorrow.
While all your loved ones are dead and gone,
what lies beneath might wallow.

Where none and all seem to care
and the pages are turned by those,
who indulge themselves with expensive wines,
and mediocre prose.

In the end,
Where art thou, my friend?
down to a soundless sea,
where I was told, a tale as old,
as young as you and me.

Of maidens hair,
and clothes they wear,
While they dance beneath the Sun,
where sacred stones once stood,
and a Child turned into a Man.