It slips away like whispers…

That ride gently on the wind

Slowly fading into the night,

It awaits the quiet end.

Silence becomes evanescent,

As the desperation’s grasp takes hold,

The significance of the hour,

And  the past will now be tolled.

Tears of joy and sadness….

Now ease the moments strain,

Ebbing more to somber tones

For a light will lead the way

As the hour will be among us…

and our days on earth conclude,

That tranquil fleeting moment

when our soul will be renewed.

-Antony King © 2016
























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