Final thoughts will leave our head,
Down shoulders, to arms and wrists.
They drip softly, pooling on the earth
As we stumble and fall.
This reality and our memories will dry and fade.
And when our sun-bleached bones line the earth,
When we are gone;
Who will remember?
When all of the growth flourishes and the blue skies return;
The constant, incessant drone of machinery falls silent.
Sweet quiet soon comes.
And all the moving things will slowly decay.
We will watch, eyes wide open,
Staring into nothing and everything all at once;
Wondering if it was all worth it.
