The Flesh

This flesh
Is nothing more
Than a corruption
Of a fading light.
We are the ashes
Blown free by that consuming fire,
Fragile particles
Chewed from the corpse of existence.
Blackened and charred,
Souls stained
By this fallen form.
We are the ever encroaching night,
The harbinger of spiritual end.
Our shadows loom across the land
Starving the soil of precious life.
We leave barren desert in our wake,
Choke the rivers dry,
Polluting once azure sky gray.
Look into my eyes
And see my core.
What once was shining
Has dulled and darkened
Leaving a well of abyss.
Know that my core is empty
And my soul is nothing.
Begin to see
What it is to be:
An end to the ideal,
The spawning of the cynic,
And the rotting of hope.
How we devour possibility
And wallow in the filth of our depression.
How long before we fully cool into lifeless clay
And the final flame of reality's pyre
Burns itself out
Leaving nothing more
Than a scattered once
And a eternal never will be?