Dying
Dying is like a gentle fall day
Where the air is crisp and the wind blows.
All sounds fade
The colors are muted
And the awareness of self wanes.
Life is faint for a moment
Yet not dim
As the light awaits us
For a moment of reflection.
Where the air is crisp and the wind blows.
All sounds fade
The colors are muted
And the awareness of self wanes.
Life is faint for a moment
Yet not dim
As the light awaits us
For a moment of reflection.