We are what we are and we are no more - and no more shall we be. We are shadows without substance, silhouettes fading with the failing light. As we expire, we expire, and we sigh from the last of our reserves. "We deserved so much more" we say, but say this to the vast, desolate expanses. It is what it is and it is no more - and no more shall it be.
We resign, because there is no more. There may have been, but what was, is gone, and what is has never been. For nothing shall come, and nothing will suffice. And yet nothing is expected. Such expectations will be satisfied, and yet satisfy they will not. They shall disappoint, and yet disappoint, they will not. Such things will come to pass, though of course they will not.
We have passed through, slipped beyond the mirky depths of the yesteryear to the darkness of today. Our senses sense us failing, and yet there is nothing to fall into but the abyss. And the abyss shall never hold us - it shall give way as we sink ever deep. To stop is to have stopped, and to finished is to be finished, but when shall it stop and when shall it finish?