great darkness fell upon him
warming the coldness of his heart
the engulfing cloak temporarily eased the pain
as his sharp mind cut to the task at hand
busy weaving the threads of fate
trembling hand caresses the gun
seconds seem like hours
lonely cry pierces the dark
one finger squeezes the trigger
the final spark-
he is no more...
remembered by none
a being that came and went
leaving no mark, no trace
that he was ever part of this race.

A gunslinger,in his final moments.our lives are like shadows fading into darkness. Nice poem.The image burn into my mind.