Remembering, "Night" by Elie Wiesel
What should become of the silent ashes of a man? His life in convoy only destined to disband. Charred Ashes, fragmented memories beautifully enduring in my urn. Petrified sun, frizzled blur of light leapt hot to kiss or burn. Life dried up to jolt or halt the dead. The living quiver, interminable as... Sign in to see full entry.