Although the sun may filter
Through the leaves of sapling trees,
To alight upon smooth stone,
And melded steel,
None of its fire will touch this place again.

The souls that line these paths,
Have ended their own journeys,
In a chaotic order,
Like a bird that suddenly
Finds it cannot fly
And instead falls.

The flames that used to flicker,
Are extinguished.
Now their names are memories,
Carved in cool steel,
Traced by trembling fingers,
Memorized by mournful green eyes.
Every lonely slip of stone
The only companion to gravel, sky, and water.

The wind blows cool,
A soft, silent vigilant,
Sweeping across the contrast
Of light and dark ,
Gracing the building,
Revealing a phoenix,
Winding around the sloping stone,
And melded steel,
Rustling past those still grasping light.