At best, it slips away through your fingers like a fine sand.
Impossible to grasp.
It blows away on a breeze, never to be seen or felt again.
Loss cannot be explained. Only felt.
Life itself has relinquished it's luster,
the gleam is gone from
garnets and gemstones all.
I cultivate stones and dust within my heart,
And a forbidding silence without.
Of bridges burned and friendships failed I am a wealthy man at last.
What is this now?
What is left of me?
Just a bitter taste of ashes,
...and a Fool's Eulogy.