Our future is as bright,
as the dimming night lights,
those praying parking lot bulbs
that burnout before they
ever get the chance to blow.

Tomorrow will be
something to see,
something which I believe
will come with or without me.

As time moves on,
some may fall back
while others spring forward.
I hope they recall that
I wrote poetry with love.

I wasn’t the first person on earth
and I am certain
I won’t be the last one
left here hurting.

My heart’s hope may be
slightly decreasing
and conditionally
provided in writing.

I know I can’t save us all,
but this is just a small
anthem of rhymes to call
my loving brethren
to arms.

Goodnight,
and my affections to
all of you who
are still around
when this poem is found.