A moment of silence, a day to mourn;
A few minutes of inconvenience, and the memory is gone.
The sun gleams shamelessly in irony,
And birds sing of immortality.
Where are the ash-stained clouds?
You witness the forgotten Souls
And the holes They leave behind;
Only to be replaced by another new
Temporarity that we shall hold
Close to our hearts.
Until the Day that is due.
The Day, no doubt, is inevitable.
But the days preceding that
Are mine to mold.
For no material shall prevail
except my deeds and destiny.
Only You will remain,
With the permanence of Gold.
For the Day will come,
When angels of eternity taunt my mortality,
As I close these eyes, and succumb to Infinity.
The Day will come.
From Dust I am born,
and Dust I shall become.