only eight

generation by Alistair Chong

in a place, in a place
where the light in eyes is light
they're fading still but bright
on her face, on her face
are the lines of time
calm, collected, accepting of life
this is who we are
dying but alive

we will fade, we will fade
back to dust, into the dark
so we try to play the most of our part
then from our graves, from our graves
children will depart
and life, for all she is
will still be art