Monday, January 1, 2018

Forgotten

On the precipice of oblivion,
are perched, our lives, attached
by tenuous strings, to each other,
awaiting death, once,
and then again.
After the first, they stretch out
in sorrow, sending messages of
grief, but in their collective gloom,
there is joy, of a life lived,
and loved, one that touched,
created these strands.
Soon, as each tender link
breaks, one by one, until there is
but one last burning ember,
that may shine brightly, or
flicker dimly, but gradually
must fade, and death once more,
with no trace, in the amalgam of human
history, lost never to be found,
forgotten.



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