alone in timeless space

there are no shadows in the aching night
i cannot sleep for the intrusive sound
nothing seems kind or pleasant here around
i dim but cannot quite put out the light
there's much to worry at the edge of sight
where senses and desires will both compound
in shapes and figures that seek to confound
trapped at the heart of rigour and of rite
nothing that comes from any stress or strain
can quite succeed in making us take thought
for what will come when all leaves start to turn
the rule of life small pleasure and much pain
and all our efforts at last count for naught
we come from fire and our fate is to burn