I knew the end would come and go

I knew the end would come
And go,
Just like every day that passes
Through my skin and fingers,
Like every clouded thought,
Forming and dispersing,
Drifting
In and out.
My teeth; imperfect dams.
My hands; imperfect vessels.
I can’t prolong or keep the strings,
The muses pull and snip, red and all.
I know this, and yet.

When the end comes for me,
It will pass through the walls of each day,
In one quiet sigh.