Fading in Continuation

I'm finding in myself the wretched weakness of the flesh. My memories fade like wisps of smoke on the night air against the starry sky of reality. Even as I told myself the vision of that beauty cannot fade - in all its meaning and weight and presence - the smoke evaporated, the fire died, and I now can't grasp at my own mind to scrape out the essence of what I had experienced. Nevertheless, I'll press on.