As the shadows lengthen on our street, and the sounds of industry are drowned
The turning of the cogs slow, and weary muscles ease
The foreman releases us for the evening, to rebel within the constraints of fleeting freedom
As we walk the trail to our homes, we catch a glimpse of the sun's descent
And as that red fringe dissolves in the ocean, a silence falls over every one
A chilling stir is felt, unspoken, as the purple glow lingers
A current pulling at our core
An ebb towards the edge of the horizon
Recognition of this eternal show reflecting in each of our eyes
As the day's end gathers strength, to pull the veil of night over the shifting canvas above,
the sun builds its fury elsewhere, to break a new day and rise once more
For the hour glass is tipped
And the sand flows to the shore
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