Our lot.
That is the way it is.
Some are lost
in a sharp life.
Waiting for tomorrow’s
dawn to break them.
Within this space
I can certainly feel
strong and alive.
As though springtime
has come once again.
There is no darkness
where the mind does not go.
In the great sum of
things, everything ends,
Scattered on the earth
and leaving very little trace.
A fitting end, I think.