Find It

Find it, lest you perish,
perish long, long before the grave—
before the earth can take you whole,
before the wind can claim your name.

It is fading now, the ember,
swallowed deep beneath the skin.
Do you feel it?—the slow undoing,
the silent rot, the hollow din?

You were meant for more than dying,
more than waiting for the end—
more than days that bleed together,
more than nights you let descend.

Find it, grasp it, tear it burning
from the dark where you have lain.
Find it, lest you perish—
perish long, long before the flame.