What is the meaning of it all?
For each object, when the day annuls,
Gives way to an endless
crumbling wake of empty.
Our bodies, once bursting with fervor,
Will kiss the ground and pay homage
To this imperial world.
All we have amassed throughout this span
Will soon rot with memories of
What-ifs and the past tense.
Years are spent yearning for
Things, and yet, the last beat strikes.
We have worked so hard simply
To gain nothing.
We have worked to obtain,
And yet we are empty upon
Our departure.
No eminence or prestige left,
Just bones of memories and person.
And when we go crumbling down
We take with us
Not what we saw
But what we felt.
We take the laughter of an
Early morning stroll,
The tears of our first heartbreak,
And the beating of her chest
Against your own molten one.
We take the pastel sunset,
And the feeling of his leathered hands
Intertwined with the innocence in yours.
We take the thick summer air,
Humid and syrupy sweet as the bees
Buzz around,
smelling like lemon
And mint.
We take the rush of passion
That leaves us stuttering and stammering;
Balancing on the stony edge of emotion.
We take our last breath,
And as we inhale,
We absorb the world.