So Strange A Dream Poem by Sophia White

There he sits in his ruins, Man.
He holds the ashes of his thought in his palms
Wondering.
In the ash, there is nothing distinguishable
For it is all hopeless gray. Nothing remains.

His thoughts, his dreams, his purpose
Are all vanished – even the ash turns to mist
Disappearing.
Before his eyes his own hands turn pale
Begin to crumble, and so his face, his thigh.

His dark and empty eyes look on blankly,
Barely comprehending what he has done
So blindly.
“This is the way of things, ” he says so soft.
Everything is ending, nothing will remain.

The cosmos is gone, vanished into emptiness,
The stars he had stared at with such pride
Only memory.
Even memory begins to melt away inside his mind,
And he is left empty. A hollow shell quickly fading.

Sitting in his nothingness, so soon to die,
He still searches without hope or reason
For meaning.
“All is death.” Yet still he dreams of life,
So strange a dream within his thick despair.