Dark night that walks

There is a dark sky
That walks
Across the scattering
Of Little sparks

Then in time it turns
To the bright blue side
In keeping, with the pattern,
That It must abide

In many such cycles
Travels forward the time
In its ashes, soon forgotten
Is all that I adored as mine

And then when the urn is filled
Up to the brim, piles up the grime
It would start all over again
One story at a time