To the Waters and the Wild

My life is composed of endless nights, short days, cold cups of tea and horrible shadows. I made a lantern last night and placed in on my window sill, hoping they would stay away. But still they crept inside my bedroom, seeping through the cracks of the windows and under the crevice of the door. They lingered in the air for a moment and then dissolved into my skin, leaving traces-  scattered ink stains on my finger tips and smudges on my eyelids- but not words. No words, no full pages. Nothing but sorrow. 

It seems sad thoughts are the only ones that have been living inside my skull, questions without answers, bitter memories and endless darkness. Even the trees were suddenly sorrowful when I realized them to be Atlas's fingers- grappling to hold up the heavy sky. I used to think they danced, lifted up their arched roots and came to life, but I see now they have no time for dancing, for they must hold up the burden of the cloudless sky. 

I suppose it is the thought of disappearing that scares me the most, there one day, gone the next. Remembered for a short while, then eternally forgotten. Like particles of dust or buzzing atoms that stop suddenly. Gone. "You won't be remembered"  or " You shan't matter in the end." -  are words that have been swarming around in my head. I look to the stars for light but I only see them as reflections in a dark murky water. "You leave behind nothing." The words taste bitter in my mouth because I know that paper burns, lights go out, childhood is not forever, birds lose their feathers, trees are cut down, people lose their memories and that everyone is forgotten. Even the stars.