The Last Saint

The past darkened pages of life
swiftly flicker past as our broken
spines and lowly minds loft dreams
we can not die.

The discovery of bended knees and
inelegant pleas comes on with a creep
and when we turn around,
the sheath of mist abounds.

Through this misty darkness,
All around you floats the darkness,
Lean In and you will see --

The last of the saints died
before you were born.