I would like to hope that I leave some sort of meaningful mantra in my wake. However,
my life has been entirely in vein and my feet can no longer comprehend coordination nor can my mind follow the blueprints to the walls it has created.

I can only hope to float away as soundly as my strength did-
as quietly as each yearly candle was put to rest
with suet and smoke left to indicate what once burned

I'll leave the infliction for my father-
a bitter mess left to its rightful origins

(C) Tiffanie Noel Doro