without death
we are nothing
a wintry embrace
long forgotten
grains of mured sand
in an endless descent
adorners of vitrails
neath skies of exalt
the morass of mortality
bound to such frivol
vaunting in vain
for a fool’s validation
regale me with tales
of a fabled existence
with just enough laughter
to stay my own ruin
let us sit on the ledge
where the sea hides the sun
in vigilant view
of our imminence
twinkled reflections
reveal glimpses of youth
lost in mirages
of futures imagined
to think of the fates
since abandoned brings pause
bewildered in awe
as our final breath flees
[image credit: Jennie Harbor]
Max, or Not 