Existence Without Living

To be of the flesh, and not be alive,
to walk on two feet, and not live to survive

To only be a memory, inside your own mind,
an endurance of nothing, with your own kind

To watch on the sidelines, as life passes away,
no one will listen, no matter what you say

An occupied space, with air in between,
a transparency of atoms, that are practically clean

A shadow that breathes, and echoes through space,
a singular occurrence, gone without a trace

An existence of life, that just turned to dust,
when the brother was gone, all he had was crushed

No footprints in the sand, except a hollow sounding wail,
blown away on the breeze, by a non-existent gale