With Eyelids Closed

With eyelids, closed and shuttered, by a nail,

The sense of sight, when other senses fail,

Is now covered with ash, so freshly laid,

The memories of fire, newly made,

When dust will be transported on a breeze,

And haunting life, like former centuries,

Like other ghosts, it will not breathe again,

Though it may linger for a moment, when,

In shadows, made by people, it once knew,

It stops to notice, as it used to do,

But passes through, this resident of air,

And curses death, still wanting them to care.