i.
i'm always just
a remnant
of what i used to be
hollow hands holding
grains of sand that
slither out between
these cold fingers

ii.
they say we're made up of
stardust
stars that burned bright
and burned out
'till their only
remnants were
echos of light

iii.
i've changed
and changed
and changed
many times
in the years of my life
whittled away
bit by bit
like a wood carving
'till i'm the perfected form
and the remaining
shavings on the floor

iv.
spring to summer
summer to fall
these roots turn cold
and these fruits
of my year's labor
fall to the ground
to feed the worms
and i am a brittle
stick-like thing
waiting for the sun
to dispel this dismal fog
that clouds the
remnants of this mind

v.
eternally temporary
that's how it is, is it?
i won't be here
but these atoms of mine
cosmic space-specks
will remain
i will leave behind
my legacy
if not my
memory

h.f.m.