Abyss is too defined a term to describe

the nothingness breathing on my hour glass,

the glass fogs from the moist nasal air,

blurring out the wasting grains of sand.

 

No,

too soon.

 

"When you're my age,

death doesn't seem so far,

and it occupies you,"

said the elder scholar,

but he lied,

or was ignorant.

 

Death does occupy me,

I see it in my fingers pounding

on plastic keys in a dark room

surrounded by melodies of sorrow;

good winter,

that crack the surface of mortality.,

if only fleetingly.

 

I have failed you,

and the sand doesn't go back up

the one-way paths in all our lives

and neither will the tears of loved ones,

weeping over something we used to be,

but can never regain again.

 

What was once moving,

loving,

thinking,

breathing,

is now undone,

and broken down.

 

No trancendence,

no light to follow,

no salvation sought,

and no mercy given.

 

Born into the godless abyss,

and returned to nothingness.