Precipice

shattered ashes
the flypaper of past
binding, the
powdered memories
the soot and fragments
morsel crumbs left
behind by life
enough to remember
far from enough
to have, nothing
to hold tightly
warm in hands
with breath and
beat and color
nothing to have
what is to want
all has slipped
from yesterday
nothing has sprung
from tomorrow
fate laid out
in the shattered ashes
of what's left
and the abysmal void
of what may be