Untitled Document- Posterity

I feel like an immortal being,
Juxtaposed with youthful volition,
Meager enough to lack great meaning,
Yet verbose enough for existence.

I am a pinprick drop of blood,
Flowing softly through a skinless vein;
Ambition not my own, tells me should,
Yet this destined weight marks: all is vain.

Another eve hangs lowly now,
For she is an ageless time of day;
Cast from such a celestial glow,
So as we speak, who records our say?

An ember dwindling to exhaust,
Rekindled with a flame upon flame;
Posterity demands a damned cost,
Within this cage, will the next be the same?