A poem dedicated to those who have lost their loved ones.

~~

I saw that he swallowed the sun.

For fire filled his veins

And light flooded his eyes.

You could see his passion

in grip,

held tight despite

his external fragility.

The lines creasing his mouth

And hollowing his cheeks

represented years of content living.

Behind his eyes his mind

was full of nostalgia for

days long passed,

nights short lived,

craving the serene need

for freedom once again.

Yet, his outside no longer matched

the in.

His mind told his legs to move

But the muscles wouldn’t contract.

His instincts told him to eat

yet, his stomach rejected food.

His hands willed to grip tight

And instances they did.

But his heart longed

for the past.

For the sweet consumption

youth once brought.

During the nights

he contemplated life

And how pure it once was.

But time fades and

he aged.

He was previously

so iron willed,

But now he was

soft and vulnerable.

Nights turned to mornings,

And watching had grown

tiresome.

Sleep proved the only salvation.

Presently, he was nothing but

a passenger on a train gazing

out the tinted glass, observing the rushing

of the outside world,

wishing for the train to

stop or even go back to when he could get off.

But all he could do now

was lay his head up

against the chilled

frosty glass.

peer out once more,

And close his eyes to

the world.

Then fall asleep to

the sound of the metal

wheels thudding against

the rusted tracks