They fell; faster than spring leaves, off the family tree.
Dear uncle. Dear mom. Why me? Why you?
We smiled --moments ago-- legitimate and calm and free
Glittering health during the plague, how not true.

Smiles of hopelessness, tears of hope,
lying living, half in life, tombstone carved in your eyes
You brought hope, you liar, how then do we cope?
In truth, did you know? Or faked your shine for true smiles.

Yes you're gone, now we need healing
Our hearts stabbed by your last smile and hasty departure.
It all changed but it somehow remained the same
Into the dust lies thine stature, lies thine of stature.

I'll hang on to the echoes of your voice,
Your face from the mind's flashing window's glimpse,
Your touch from showering echoes of noise
From then when I became undone, like opened gifts.

Physical cash transactions are final
  But in the digital world non-reversible
      Transactions have not been possible
        Since financial institutions cannot avoid
            Mediating disputes which prevent finality
              The cost of mediation slows enterprise
                  And makes trade and finance complex
                    Therefore
                  We need an electronic payment system
              Based on cryptographic proof, not trust
            Allowing any two parties to transact directly
        With irreversible transactions based on a
      Distributed timestamp server to generate
  Proof of the chronology of the transactions
And thus finality. The solution is Bitcoin

Finality
is a reality
there is no endless love
no forever
even in the beauty of the stars above
all will end
we cannot transcend our allotted span
so live and laugh and dance while you can

Waves of sadness as you wave in my direction. I see you go, I watch you leave. Just as the seasons appear and dispose of me. We take turns walking away, from people we never talked to. Wondering why it hurts the same. Hating that it hurts as all of these people go. Sudden realisation hit us one by one. As we wonder, and walk, and wonder around all the topics we may have avoided. The thoughts we’re apparently devoid of. Introspect, retrospect, dissect ourselves in this critical moment. Nostalgia knocking us over making us think and  making us feel, for once. A remarkable feat, it must be applauded. Ovation, overjoy, overwhelm. Over this. Over them. Over it. Time moving so agonisingly slowly, wishing away the years. Needing to escape, yet wanting to eternalise the way they make me feel. Nothing lasts forever. Maybe you should’ve, yet you didn’t. Now you’re all that’s left tell me how it feels. It doesn’t feel good, it doesn’t even seem right. Yet it’s a must and a miss you. The question has to be asked: why are you crying now? After all these months, why are you letting it hit now? Stay strong, be strong, be you. Be fearless and young. The golden years fade away into shades of blue and black skies. I wish you all well, and a happy birthday. Get well soon, get there soon. It’s all getting to me too soon. It’s too soon. How are we already here? We were all the way over there yesterday. Faces flash and second pass by with smiles. Frowning back, the question must be asked, why are you so sad?

Closure
(noun)
finality,
a letting go,
a complete acceptance of what occurred

But can you ever really let such a thing go?
If it inspired such emotion
that it brushed your very core—
If you loved it, hated it so much
that an it-sized hole was left in your life—
How does one just "find closure"?

And even if you managed
to wipe your mind of it,
to bid farewell to your demons,
to sever your ties to it
What makes you think it will ever release you?

In conclusion
Closure:
(noun)
a myth

My rail tracks seem to have disappeared
Only the red autumn leaves seem to have covered
A cold melancholy in the air hovers
As I look beyond to see what uncovers

But the truth is that it is an endless journey
There’s no special place ahead, no sanctuary
Just the train, and the passing estuary
The destination seems lost, as I realise it was only imaginary.

Now I yearn for meaning.

What is this train journey,
Where is it leading?
Maybe it’s better to just hop off
And enjoy it from the beginning.

"Behold," what a phrase,
Uttered the kind, the crude, and
An unlucky few

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
life
is so much
like death, inverted
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀dying to undo the dreams
⠀⠀⠀⠀of the unborn
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ we have been groomed to
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ blockade the mighty river
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀water my mother drained
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ from early stars
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
.