We mortals are a fragile little thing

Frailties hanging limply on our sides

Decorating our void soul; a thing of beauty

We are so easily dropped and shattered

So mindlessly glued back together

Sewing tight bags for heavy contents; your heart could not hold

Fatigue drips down your face

You wipe it with sleeves of anticipation and angst

But she never appears around the corner; a shadowless phantom

We mortals are a thing of wonder;

Expectations brimming in our cups; motivation spilling on our hands

We turn them down; weary of cleaning after our own mess

I wonder what it must be like

To have constellations form behind your eyelids;

Flowers grow beneath your feet

Your mind is a galaxy of clustered stars

Blood gallops in the meadow of your veins

How dare you take yourself down?

You belong to the spring breeze

You belong to the morning silence

You are your own destruction; your legacy is timeless.