Trial on the 2nd

The hours of commotion
swept by time,
bleeding into dusk.
The inevitable passion
in shaded expanses
of the sky above.

We were kept from the Sun,
and the trails of change
where Pheme slept in shade,
sheltered from decay wrought by age;
we grew old and grey in the chase.

With another hill trodden
whilst stumbling with ache,
a crest became a distant approximation
of our resting place, 
where we lay in spirit;
we were swept away in cold-river channels
long ago, now fostering crops in the leys.