Dear Cryptic Affluence, 

 

  Did I really have to go so far?

What did I do for you to drown this way?

It wasn't easy getting here,

tell me was it meant to be?

I want to make my dreams come true

through the ways you'd least expect it.

 

Tell me did it really have to end this way?

Will people take notice

of the shining beacon of hope

or of the dark ashes of the last gleans of the eruption.

No one wants to take pictures

of the death that surrounds us,

it's more of an obligation so to speak.

But for life, 

it's the envious of the pick,

the one that photographers jostle over,

no matter the person. 

 

So tell me.

What were your thoughts that day?

The moment they crashed

the moment you had to let go

of the waterfall of the expanse of those crowds 

that shouted and wailed 

and those who walked away from the despair hanging over us in the air.

 

Tell me,

oh wonderous Affluence. 

Is life really that sweet to the fallen?