When Someone Dies

When someone dies,

he dies with our memories.

Our childhood flees like an undone palimpsest

with the demise of his green celestial light.

When someone dies,

he kills the decades within us, and

the “us” inside us could still whirl

into the tumultuous, turbulent void

that was snatched away overnight.

When someone dies,

he robs us of the mutual self we once inhabited,

of the symbiosis, the backup server.

All is mutilated: the natural chain

of failover and failback.

We die living,

standalone.

13 October, 2026