Winter’s End

Days and months and years pass by,

Time is but a dream with no real meaning, and life is nothing without feeling.

Death is as much a part of life;

Just as a tree must shed its leaves,

to make room for new growth in Spring.

I too, will meet Death at my winters’ end;

As will you,

Exist not in memories for there is a future before you,

And today is the only matter at all.

So I ask,

Do you exist in the past?

Is it for what has yet to come in which you bask?

Why is living in the present such an existential task?

So we hold the mask of ignorance,

And pretend to see no end,

Until the time has come for you ,

To return to dust again.

©S.J.Reed