Dawn. Sound of an empty bell.
The sun rises: your soul sinks.
Another day of pain begins.
Youth greets each day as new;
Age greets each day as memories.
An old man lives with Shades,
never looking forward, only back.
It is a hard life in the past.
Too many changes; too much loss.
A heavy load to carry on.
Where there were friends, wars,
lovers, hopes and dreams,
now only empty rivers and mountains.
The plum tree that blossomed
so many years outside the window
long since a rotting stump.
The Dharma wheel never stutters.
The ax falls finally on us all.
Waiting for the stroke is long.
Dawn. Reminder of what’s to come.