Lament

Echoing moments of silence, lay trace of life. In the distance a gleem of a memory, like an ember engulfed by the night. Struggling against suffocation it's light now lament. Faintly a whim, every ounce of energy put into the effort made there of him. The faintest presence ever still… but present does he remain. The stubbornness to be adorned with the willingness to go. Fragile now is the state… a precibus leering towards him in a timeless sense of of utter desperation. Quiet, so still, wavering his right to exist… a shallow breath, and silence. Like a candle slowly fades, by the engorging darkness. For what was there? If there ever had been, something of worth and note? For could such a thing then there be missed, had it never been noticed at all… like a painters craft afixed, to cover a hole in the wall...