It will be but blank space,
A void in silence as tears are bellowed by memory
Arched waves of hollow pain
As laughter coasts into the quiet,
Portraying beauty in static
Moments clinging like passing rain,
Drying to the raise of a new day.
It will all be empty,
Forgotten in rise of the fresh
A palate in taste of new
As crops breach old soils
Reaching to distance heavens,
Only to gain passing by wilting winters
Succumb to ending winds
Feeling only the blaze of the final
As eyes gleam to what either be done,
Or plates left with crud scraps.
It will all be gone,
Prints taken by storms
Still times passing
As no beauty is of lasting
Expanding into places beyond these turning hours,
Breathless be all,
Collapsed by colossus of Chronos
To run be cowards rule
Joy be miss placed,
It will all be nothing.
What absence shall be remembered…..