Till, Sow, Water, Reap
And we keep on falling into tomorrows,
A spinning particle with a soul,
In harmony with the spheres,
Sure as clockwork,
Till that final moment,
We meet dust,
We become wind,
And then we are for a while -
a phrase, a song, a scent.
Falling then, into yesterdays,
Each descending further -
Soundless, breathless, lifeless.
Why then should we be, as if
'forever' is the blood in our veins?
Have we not heard the phrase -
'life and death'?
Till the soil farmer, till!
As you live -
sow, water and reap.
For only then ...
the swan song can be of
a 'life full of years!' …
That dirge laments not...
For the epitaph sings of victories
Copyright © Joshua Ryngksai | Year Posted 2023
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