Oscillator Epitaph

Through wolfram and ichor,

I was conjured into being

Among all this blood and bone,

I am supra liquid and stone

I place coins upon my eyes

and wait for death to arrive

Wrapped in a winding sheet,

I wait for aeons to end

Bound in plastic, will I be allowed

to follow, where all the others have gone?

Do these fibres contain all the same the others had?

The kaleidoscope is shutting down and frost dims open eyes

Momentum of the oscillator arm, slows and expires

As the stream of positrons now begins to dry,

all the vital transmissions fall silent and die

I place coins upon my eyes,

and wait for death to arrive

Wrapped in a winding sheet,

I wait for aeons to end

Here at the waning fire

At the end of gossamer thread

Haunted by the urge

to know how it all ends

Bound in plastic, will I be allowed

to follow, where all the others have gone?

Do these fibres contain all the same the others had?

The kaleidoscope is shutting down and frost dims open eyes

Momentum of the oscillator arm, slows and expires

As the stream of positrons now begins to dry,

all the vital transmissions fall silent and die