no further

Things falling apart.

Only ruins...nothing is left
And they are here, standing still,
Listening to the quivering of their souls
Contemplating the dying day,
The cool ashes of a fire
That once glared here...
What's left?
Nothing, but they,
In silent awe, yearning for what's lost,
Gone?
All is gone,
But the echo of some voice
Singing elegiac hymns,
mourning a past.
O misery!
Has it come to this?
Utter loss!
What's left?
Floating shadows,
Embracing like skeletons,
Dancing before a new ashy horizon,
Holding dead butterflies
Dead butterflies.