The slightest lingering trail of me has left. I lost her between your growing and my selflessness. I forgot how wounded I was, and laid down a jar with the best of me on the table. Thinking the stars couldn’t be wrong, I scooped up every little hiding spark of light in me, and put it all in a jar for you.
And as the jar glowed, and spurt, and shimmered, you grew. I fluttered in your growing. And then disappeared. I ate faith like a hungry monk and leaped over grass scented meadows in the twilight. I let some ancient belief tugging on me from another lifetime, guide me.
I bathed in the glory of a God I knew so well, made of elements of me I cannot deny.
I let myself disappoint me.
And then the stars twinkled into a mocking laugh and dawned me into a never ending day, so dark, I couldn’t find me. I tried to find myself in the mirror but the glass won’t let the light through. I can only remember a name that used to be mine. Inside, I scream out into the wilderness for light, but an empty echo scrapes past me and disappears.
I cup my bleeding arm and cry. The tears too heavy, my knees buckle and fall I do. But this time, there is no sound. My clothes collapse onto dust; there is nothing holding them up anymore. The memory of a mind hunts frantic for my soul, my voice cries out for the lips that once held them true.
Now you’ve grown. And I left nothing for me.
The slightest lingering trail of me has left. Somewhere between trying, and waiting, she faded into a summer sun, now forgotten in a calendar of never ending years to come.
She swims in the darkness like a voice you miss. Will miss. There is no smoking me away.
I have faded. And in another realm I piece together memories of the being I used to be. I have gone.
But leave a light on in the wild in my memory.