...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