dust

i have heard the music of my own death
sweet yet melancholy

dancing
at the end of some string
the Puppeteer
has chosen to lay the controls down
and bring cease to my performance

lifeless
on the stage floor
the curtains close
to an empty house
only the dust
dangles upon the air
in the absence of voices and laughter

it is the way of things

today i will breathe deep
and savor the sun