Pattern

I’m starting to notice a pattern,
like the rings around Saturn.
Every ring has its own cycle,
Rushing in almost tidal.
But they all surround the same entity,
searching for the same serenity.

Little do they know, they’re clawing and gnawing at its core,
Shriveling it up, no longer like a phoenix, unable to restore.
They should have listened to its cries,
Speaking of how inevitable time flies.

It grows numb, so cold unable to set aflame,
And it’s all because they couldn’t accept change.