I hear a whisper on the wind
I hear the breeze of the days long-gone
I hear the soft beckon of those before
they cry, "learn from our mistakes"
they weep, "learn from your own"
they plead, "learn from the graves"
I gaze upon the fields left behind in their wake
I gaze upon the hills left vacant by their passing
I gaze upon the monuments with names faded by rust and decay
one whispers, "you, too, are destined here"
one whispers, "you, too, are longing for this quiet"
one whispers, "you, too, are a colossus due to fall"
the grass beneath grows still
the sun above glimmers twilight
the world around turns beneath
I ache, as my feet become entrenched in roots and soil
I collapse, as my hands sink into the rock and stone
I drown, as my face drinks deep the tears of rain 
nothing lasts forever
memento mori
losing is fun
and, so, I drag myself
and, so, I pull myself
and, so, I hold myself
not today, I whisper
not today, I beg
not today, I hope.