We grow like shadows
In the final rays of sunlight
Expanding and diffusing
Into the yellow cellophane
Of sad goodbyes
The crispness that was once
Our bold exclaim -
Sharp and confident
Hard and fast -
Is fuzzy now
Our edges dissolving
With the diminishing light
We have become dusty
And attic borne
Left to mete out the ensuing darkness
On our own accord
What will persist?
In our own demise
Will our shadows drain
Into their own penumbras?
Or do the sands of time pile up
Everything that ever was
Into the dark matter of yesterday?
A densely stacked database
That provides the theme park
For time travelers of the future
Whose forward movement
Has been choked off by the
The bloated size of the pile
Finding ouselves trickling back down
From the distant apex
The few. The heroic. The survivors
To have avoided the dark heap
We valiant free thinkers
Who discovered the keys
Of maintaining well defined lines
And smooth hard surfaces
And of chasing the setting sun
Now and forever going backwards
Future shadows in a real past
Falling through time
Cascading through the rubble of history
Like the blurred faces of passengers
Going home on commuter trains
Powerless to affect the fixed imprint
Of that which was
Careening past from a time
So far from now that
There is no longer a future to alter
