I am a laugh that’s faded into
Fleeting memories.
Drums beat colors that float to bleakness.
Watch the cloud rumble through the blue,
Watch the bird fly, fly away into gloom;
Days in seconds, years in minuets.
Feelings turn into deadened time;
Happiness floats like a puff of smoke
All is fleeting- feeding on a distant memory
That lingers in my mind, can never find
A place in time that renders happiness.
For happiness is unobtainable, like a sound heard in a distant street, over a distant hill
It’s forgotten, its lost in time-time
Here I sit, watch the tree dance in all of it splendor.
Here I sit, watch the stump in all of its forgotten gentleness.
Here I tell stories of a tree,
A tree that can enlighten, a tree that produced wonders.
There they sit, watch an old man in his dying splendor,
And with the dying man, all his memories die.
All sounds, visions, and emotions are mingling with times disintegration.
When young and verdant, emotions flood the soul like a wave of endless ecstasy.
The old man feeds, bountifully feeds on hills of reflection.
Objects of olden time that are gazed at with new eyes,
Render a new feeling of oldness.
Words die, sounds lost, vitality to coldness.
Life is but an hourglass, a glass that is prescient of fate.
Death is the answer to mans question of fate, a question that renders happiness.
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