I existed for a fleeting moment within the vastness of time.
A fly, an insignificant speck upon this dung heap that we call Earth.
They called me mortal once. No more it seems.
Those days are long gone.

A distant memory for me.
A tiny fragment that even I cannot hold onto.
As if I want to remember that sad and lonely time.
A memory that exists only to destroy.

How I fought to the very end, clinging on madly to that drifting flotsam.
How I worried myself sick, until there was nothing more to worry about.
A world of pain and sublime terror I endured then.
A world that turned black until I woke once more.

A strange waking that.
Such a strong memory even now.
I rose as I always did, trotting off to the loo to wash and relieve myself.
The silence as usual.

It was the mirror that warned me.
I saw the rear blue wall and stared hard.
I even poked at the glass in surprise.
Then I realised, I had gone.

I trotted back and saw myself.
At least it looked like me.
Still, cold and very dead.
I shook my head and laughed.

“What was all the fuss about?”
I stared at the detritus of my life then.
I heard the meow of my loving cat.
She was deep in grief now.

The only one who cried over me.
I popped downstairs and created mayhem.
They saw the tv trashed and my frantic message
The cat was rescued and my corpse discovered.

I watched the police arrive, sudden death you see.
Then I watched the flat being cleared of my possessions.
After a year had past a new couple arrived.
Doomed like me.

I smiled, wished them luck and faded into history.
Never to return.
My moment on the stage was over.
I had taken my final bow.

That fleeting moment, like the life of that fly,
was at last over.

Wow!!!

Ta my dear.."My writing is my life. My poetry is my life. When my life ends, as it must soon do, who will remember me?"

We are but a fly in the scheme of things. Even me.