One of the folks I know over on the Aether Dancer project, Brian French, recently lost a friend of his. That inspired this elegy, framed in the Aether Dancer setting.
The world is old, the stars older still.
We stand on the hills in the dark night
and, wondering, look up at the sky.
Time is without limit, beyond reckoning;
our lives are no more than the brief spark
that streaks across the night and fades away.
Every death is like this, like something
fiercely burning, beautiful and terrible
as the rocks that once fell from the sky.
Every death is like that, like something
heavy and momentous, shattering all that
had gone before, leaving a hole in civilization.
Our memories are all that we have left
in this poor world, rebuilt from the ashes
of what was, for memory alone endures.
Everything that burns gives light; as the stones
that broke and remade the world, so too our souls:
but these stars are falling up, not down.