​”but life is such an ephemeral thing, isn’t it?”

it’s the most transient, fleeting thing there is, I reply
but I punish the words as they unravel from my mouth
my disobedient children, pull me astray
and deceive from what I try to say
that life is not insignificant; no,
it’s the most enduring thing that I know
the question lies in whether I know for sure
that I know much of anything anymore

for aren’t we all just raindrops to a fire?
we are not life, merely passing intruders
and we’ll evaporate before we get there
because we are so thirsty for the flames


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