I seem to have a glimpse

To what cannot be missed

Of her, by the ashes

Of one previous decaying world

Her fingers have brought upon

To cease splendor, into hollowness.

Like the moon with its craters,

Like the sun with its core,

Where coldness descends into burning lust,

As life leaves its place, to be upon

The pyre, where necessity becomes convenience,

Where the appreciation becomes a passing instant

To melt, like one candle only seemed to be eternal,

To vent, like a final breath was never noticed.