When a house burns down
It spreads itself around
In aftermath its lost mass
But it isn't past, it is passed
Around jetsam and debris
This isn't what we mean by free
What goes up in years
Comes down in hours
And now we've lost what was ours
We built by what endures
The point of this is
Nothing goes without leaving a trace
First law of criminology
Last law of liminilogy
That the fading is always there,
Half by half, Xeno's paradox
Converges as monuments turn to dots
on the edge of our vision.
So, so, so, please listen.
Its not that after two years,
There isn't a trace,
its just the only trace
Is the trace
Of my tears.