Dried Up

Dried Up Time – Mother Nature – guiding forces of the Grim Reaper, that guardian Angel, that patient gate keeper. Autumn leaves, clothed in reds, browns, yellows and gold. I, a man of experiences, of age – this life has grown cold in the warmth of the sun, days that are kept fair - under blue skies, in my crown of white hair – in time – callous – laying in dark shadows, to wait, to watch it all crumble – in hand – my fate, as it is for all, - skeletal remains - as all turns to dust, as all, in the end, in the final analysis, must in order to set free - for the soul to be – all, as all reaches out to become a part of eternity. Life’s great, glorious ship, set adrift in that black ?, sea, is life’s journey, what lays ahead for you and me as we move on into – that question - what will be, for us, consciously, never to see. B. J. “A ” 2 September 3rd 2004