More random poetry

This is the sequel to the one I did around Christmas, apparently. My inspiration seems to come late at night. I'm not even quite sure what this one is about (it reminds me a bit of Merrin) but...yeah.

It’s falling like a million shards of crystal round my feet.
There won’t be any funeral; my dirge is short and sweet.
Life seems a blown-glass miniature that is but never does;
Yet death that creeps so near is not the specter that it was.

In moments before breath is stolen on the passing wind
I pause and just remember how it might once have been.
No sacrifice, no sorrow; only love and life and laughter
No thought of the slow pass of years, or what might have come after.

Bending low, I gather crystals in my fragile hand
I cannot see the light with which they gleam as sparkling sand
Alone amidst oblivion, the nothingness abounds
They told me that the angels sing. I cannot hear a sound.

I wonder if my eyes reflect the sadness of regret
I could not say; the mirror only shows that they are wet.
This was not the ending to my story that I chose
Not the path I would have taken to bring it to a close.

I cannot stop to dry my tears for what I know is gone
Nor pause to sing the fading last notes of my dying song
Something beckons, calls me on; it stirs my feet to move
Identity is something it does not care to prove.

I stumble in the darkness, without lamp to light my feet
But when a hand slips into mine…the angels’ song is sweet.

~Sil