Time wasted

All this time wasted,
hours of desolation collect to mass produce songs of wisdom
and words of knowledge.
And all this time I thought we could count the misshapen clouds floating above us,
under the moon and stars where ancient gods met to ponder on their mistakes.
Soothing winds pass over me, the ill-inspired one, giving more than I can take or will ever have, sooner or later the cold crisp leafs fall over my wondering eye.
Such thoughtful poems easing the mind. At this time blue birds of southern living fly over the horizon to burn our the everlasting sun, only to realize how impossible it is to get over something so bright and warm that the body not only obsesses but needs the rays to fill the frozen hole humans bear.
All come together at last to sing one last song for the angel who gave us his instruments, mortal instruments. 
Like a key to a piano, more thatn one note is needed and so is the blood to the heart, more than one beat to keep this soul contained.
And while you wait for the others father time moves quickly along melting both dead and living creatures.

At first glance the eyes see nothing abnormal. The kings, roast over a candle lit flame, screaming in agonizing pain but soon to be rushed over by death.
Grim takes one last look at his tainted life, poor and rich both fighting for survival.
At the last breath of life, the eyes of the tarrant see pitch black moons dancing swiftly around the planets and out of sight into our glorious heaven or hell, whichever you prefer....