Approaching the Exit In

It was I and not the world
Who pulled away.
I thought they had a meaning
The things that stayed,
That everyone had feathers to array
Before the sun's low and dissolving eye.
Oh no, they are for wings
So we can fly.

There is no death, alas,
There's only life
That begs us to forget
Our endless grief.
Still I long for the oblivion of kings,
To have the life I've lived amassed in crystal
Than stand before this moment, my undoing;
How shocking its perfection, still.