A candle snuffed out in the wind.
The last beam of light severed from the closing of a door.
A drop of water, picked apart, as the heat forces it to disperse.
A crinkly leaf, plucked from a tree, crumbled smaller than grains of sand.
The warmth of sun, slowly drained, as night's cool draws out the heat.
The whining whistle of the wind, forced to come to rest.
A bolt of lightning, in a flash, rushes towards its death.
Of things that were
Of things that came
Very few
Do so remain.
Just like the thoughts
in my brain
or a chorus' song
without refrain.
The jolt of thought,
A neuron shock.
Long? It's not... to last.
Just like a soul
who's live is full
with remnants from the past.
Memories
and treasuries
all will fade and pass.
Continuing to permeate
Continuing to emanate
There's not enough energy to begin.
We're the same
Of things that came
To be like a candle snuffed out in the wind.
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Smartystan
Flags flew freely in the summer breeze. They consisted of a gray and white brain against a black background. Scales of gold sat just beneath the image of the organ. The sun rose at just the zenith and shared its light and warmth with the attendees to one of the country-states’ greatest accomplishments: the graduation of two women who had been in a halfway house and found their passions for art design and communications. Mala and Sheltham looked on with sunglasses and cheered the graduates. With the knowledge they had months to go before being up on that stage, they looked at each other and grinned. After the ceremony, they walked into a pizza restaurant that fit their budgets.
By Skyler Saunders4 days ago in Chapters
Comments (1)
wow that is a great thought .i like your wordings keep it up