Mobius Ring

Watching the photo burning...
For the fire licks it slowly
Small flames touch the edges
As the growing indigo of the fire swallows the useless sheet.

And when the ashes
Become a withered autumn's leaf,
Myriads of dying sparks
Fade away, leaving the emptiness instead.

This is the silver burning. The silver of the past.
The broken secrets of life that looked so happy.
Life, that appeared to be fake
Past that turned out to be the whole life.