I watched a tree falling
in the woods, and funny,
it made no sound. I have been
invisible for some time,
now, no one nowhere: I weigh
less than even a shadow.
I had been a person who
in this modern life never
spoke out, and as I said
less and less, the more transparent
I became. My motives you
could plainly see through the
glass of my flesh, my excuses
vanished like so much
smoke in a wind. And now,
my memories I cannot distinguish
whether I lived them or if
they were merely dreamings
of life: have I ever lived at all?
I have forgotten how to become.
I cannot be any more than this,
not even a ghost, in cruel
immortality, to be left to wander
when there are only ruins:
in the awful, charred quiet
after the end of the world.
