Bladed Stalactite

Time has arrived.

Time is here.

Oh, Sam.

But the snow is great.

And you, bladed stalactite,

shredded your loved ones

Into a ticker-tape parade,

confettied aftermath of distant glories.

Sic transit.

Now that you are melting,

there is no one left

to gather your holy water

and to exorcise the demons

in the empty cave

that you had become.

Oh Sam. Oh Sam.

It is time already.