Things

If things are all we are

 and all we have

 if space is all neglected

 from around

 the ground

 the sky cannot be found

within our head

if we have left the building

vacant of it's youth

no one to want

to live there anymore

while sainted sons

and daughters speak

as if we

were not there

our memories are packed

our boxes shipped

why need we stick around

why needs remain

at all anywhere

yet still

our meat remain

to cast a shadow

in the space

our last container

poised to journey home

our tether plucked

one final time

by God alone

and we are done

and simply not there

in that final frame

would that be better

as it were

I will not fill

this space again

nor cast a doubt

for now the world

is clean of me

and I of it

and even I

am not


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2016
Photo credit: artist presently unknown