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Identity

Living in the past

Who would want to leave?

It was the highlight of a

Short life well lived.

The death of a soul

Aged beyond recognition

As the fire drifted

Into the autumn night.

Dreams that survived frost

Died under the sunset.

The conqueror fell

By the penetrating

Summer smile.

Dreams are closer to reality

Than last night.

As the pain disappeared

In the darkness

For just a little while.

The separation of the soul

Above these chains,

A temporary fix for an

Eternal problem.

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© Philosophical Rambler 2021

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