It has started to die;

I know because I can see 

Myself not being here,

Like when you realize 

You already left home

Before you are actually

Out on the road away. 

I see now when I’m gone

What’s the difference (sigh)?

I’m never was as I thought;

Contrary to what my ego always said,

I am never--(never was the ocean, a redwood, a volcano…)

In real life I was an ephemeral formation,

An ancillary incorporation of energy;

Transient, interchangeable

"Petal on a black bough."

My blazing ego a mere fire

Dependent on a feed

That turns to ash.

Put my useless remnants upon

Your forehead, so that I may 

Disappear serving a real purpose.