Tuesday, August 16, 2011

The Tracks of Our Years

The color has drained
From our hair.
Our skin shows
The tracks of our years.

We are not young
Our bodies mock us.
Your mind takes you
To darker places.

I can’t follow  you
I can’t help you now.
I am older and yet
I am younger.

Hand it to him
The Spirit Guide says
And I do not know
What it means

Lucky animals
To not know of “Death”
They must not starve.
They fear Eagle’s claws.

But it is not Death
As we know it.
Which is that we know
Not what it is.

But we know what time is
And that the color is
Draining from our hair
And Death is coming near.

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