The dust engulfs my entirety, claims me, all of me.
I reach for your hand, still fresh in my memory in all its wonder.
Your alabaster skin, cool against my face, soft and pliant.
Your hand that I know I’ll never feel again.

The grief racks my soul, enervates me and robs me of my peace,
Your hand is all I need to turn this around, to return order to this world.
Your hand is all I see, the brilliant light you emit blinds my human eyes,
But all the light in the heavens could not sear your vision from my mind.

The dust begins to burn, my flesh and my heart.
The horizon begins to dim, and your light begins to flicker.
I know, I’ll never reach you, I know we’ll never touch,
And I’m prepared to die in this final endeavor.

It is not as I thought, the darkness, I mean.
Not robbing me of light, but devouring it all.
I no longer feel my legs, probably consumed now,
I won’t even look, for you are the last thing I want to see.

My fingers are almost there; soon it will all be fine,
I risk my sight and attempt to peruse your beauty once more.
The darkness can’t consume you, but it dimmed the glare from your face,
I wished it took me first, but this was probably its intention.

Your hair shields most of your face, the sinuous locks I adore,
But it’s your eyes which seize the very breath from me.
The eyes once superfluous with love, now utterly void.
In the last instant, my fingers retreat.... I knew we would never touch.