A flight of memories.
But the stairs were so high.
I felt air pressure changing,
But the question is why?
What was there to fear,
And why was it creeping so near?
Rather,
Why must the stove burn
When our hearts lose their
Coal?
And the fire burning
Must be told
Its flame has an expiration date?
What are we?
Milk?
Is our time on the Earth,
A test of the days?
Or is it a quiz
With multiple moments,
And parts,
And infinite guesses
Until we run out
And run clear
Of the world altogether?
We have made it so far
Being just ourselves
And here.
But our time is so far,
Yet it is
Oh so near.
Let us be
Clear.