ashes

A life is like a fire,
It starts out with just a few sparks,
Which catch and slowly grow,
It burns from a small flame into a great roaring fire,
Touching all others around it with its light and warmth,
Then it reaches its peak,
It spirals down and down,
Till naught is left but a few glowing embers,
Now the only people who even know it is there are the ones who saw it in its prime,
But soon the embers turn to cinders,
And the cinders to coals,
And all that is left is a dry husk containing no life at all,
It will be there only a short while before the rain and wind have removed all trace of it,
Like time does to any man born of woman,
It will live on briefly in the minds of those who saw it,
but soon enough they too will burn out,
Scattered as ashes in the wind,
all memory of the fire, the life it lived, and those it touched,
will be lost to time, the only thing that will always be.