Existence is futile,
here for a moment,
then cast out
into the cosmos.

Remembered briefly
by those we touch,
then their fire too,
burns out.

Ashes in the wind,
grains of sand,
blown about,
never to re-form.

But the essence
lives on,
impulses swirl,
through the dark matter.

Searching for a host,
no knowledge of time,
memories retained,
but inaccessible.