...Propellant...
Your mention of
leaving
provides a sorrowful
propellant
that rewinds and relives
our entire lives
people smiling
laughing
crying
knowing we are all
going
to die
knowing we are all
dying to live
dying to be
needed
wanted
respected
loved
All of us
find the propellant
under our fingernails
under our diaphragms
in the epidermis layers
where the cells of memory
allocate themselves, bright and alive
Your mention of
living
a life
clear and clean
of honor and glory
is a firey propellant
under the seat
of my soul
under the stairwells
of the castle
I have built
in the sky
