Remembered world drowned
beneath skies of falling fire.
Dreams of ash laughing
at what could have been.
But don’t despair,
my life matters.
My life will be different,
than yours:
a memory.
A memory of a candle
extinguished
by the howling wind.
A memory that
was.
But not my life.
I am
a picture,
long turned to dust,
of lies
of lies and lies
that burn and burn
at the tendrils of love
that should have been.
A candle of light
in a universe of darkness
shines longer,
longer than me.
Suns will darken,
hearts will wither,
souls will turn to mist
on a foggy day,
but I will stand
here,
on this rock
that will be dust,
as a pillar,
a monument,
a lesson,
of what
should not have been.
A boat
of blood,
flesh,
and sinew,
sails away,
dream catcher
on the drowning ocean,
bathed in falling fire.
A boat
of blood,
flesh,
and sinew,
leaves me,
standing on a dusty rock,
imagining
what could have been
and what will be:
the eternal life,
maybe worth living,
that is mine.