A dead bird Withers in my hands. Befouled, darkened Memories When touching darkness absolute In solitude the hunger for death Reaches out for thee. Thine is the last breath to take forth The ghosts of the dead. As with decay and with woe Misguided beliefs bloom in grey. When there is nothing more to be done To be said or to be changed. A history of ghosts The omnipresence of loss A history of ghosts Still surrounded by voices and touches of the dead Thoughts leaving behind A last breath of completion Before a flaming void Devours this inner sanctity forever The omnipresence of absolute forsakenness Gathering the last living moments The omnipresence of abandonment When all left behind in non-fulfillment No atonement A burden eternal lies ahead for the rest of days All told all thought all shed Fading remembrance - an aura of ash