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 3^rd 2004