Letting Go

In this,
the longest of my hours,
I have found so little peace,
so little love,
to brand myself with,
to hold myself to,
in this time,
I have found nothing,
no worth,
no hope,
no symbol to hold myself to,
no thing to cherish,
in the darkness,
of myself,
I have found only this,
only me,
in my ugliest form.
I have seen,
with truest sight,
what one hopes to never see,
the barest,
the most awful sight,
of bashful truth,
of gruesome hope,
that one cannot fore fill,
it destroys,
what is left,
to know,
that even in my barest minimum,
I still dream of too much,
still expect so much from myself.
There is no dream,
no hope,
no blessed wish,
I can even ponder,
I have no right to dream,
to sight of hope,
and no blessing,
for less than a wish,
so in the fathoms,
of the crevasse,
where I left my self-battered body,
I find my soul,
as it once was,
grasping on straws,
that no longer exist,
as I prepare,
for my final goodbye.