Jerome by Anastasia Forfotă - HTML preview

Prospect for Death

What would you do,

as a star set into the sky,

slip of a brush onto the blackness,

what would you do if you died?

As when I gaze upward,

what remains of death but for a word?

There's nothing left of you

but for the ray steering at the loon,

remains of a light

long passed yet only now arrived,

remains of a life,

inheritance of that which has flown by,

remnants from a soul,

scattered across as dust, spread amongst us all.

And from your vast and endless ruin,

ancient relics still ascend

and dance in spite of moonlight charring

losses from which you've been sent.

What would you have done, then,

if you had died?

Well, in my awakening collapse, my dear,

I would have sighed.