Here i Lie:
Disconsolate
Discouraged

Worn down to nothing like the teeth of the Pharaohs-
the  resilient, tiny grains of sand contaminating their food, interminable grinding of bone

like  defeat, rejection, failure endlessly chipping away at and disintegrating the substance of my soul.

Is there hope?
There always is,
but its once-bright warm caress of light
has faded to almost nothing,
the last minuscule bit of candle wick

now fizzles out, its dying breath a trail of swirling black smoke,
oily,
fragrant,


Gone.