The fibers of bones.
Yet so telling of life
that is no more.
Telling that life was
but is no more.
You keep nothing when you die
not even the flesh on your bones.
Color is bone.
Form is bone.
Everything else disappears
Time tells death what should stay.
What will survive.
Time tells what can last.
The last breath gives one the journey of death.
Death is a journey all beings must process.
A process that indicates there was once life.
Life could be preserved in bones.
Fibers of Bones
that journey a story of here and gone.