the words written on a page

are symbols strewn about

destined one day to fade

and disappear without a sound

perhaps no one will read these words

maybe my thoughts will die too

but the beauty in the ephemeral

is the blaze that it burns

in the heart of the observer

forever, irreversible that heat

so even when we perish there will be

an eternal blaze in this world

so cold and dark our universe

but warm for just a moment

we are insignificant

but then again

there is glory in obscurity

the right to scream and noone to hear

Yelling into that dark abyss