At last, the traveler halted by the cart,
As though a final journey loomed ahead.
He drew a breath to ease his heavy heart,
And poured out words the living seldom dread.
Like ocean waves that shimmer in the spray,
Or driving clouds that dance across the sky,
Life races onward to the gates of clay—
A grand dominion born to fade and die.
For human flourish births its own decay;
We fall like morning dew upon the lawn,
Which gleams beneath the sun’s descending ray,
Then vanishes, forgotten by the dawn.
Though mortal empires rise and swiftly wane,
A deeper current guides our grand design,
Propelling souls through seasons of disdain,
Toward the threshold where the fates align.
The flesh collapses at the journey’s end,
Yet sparks of the immortal soul remain,
Though blind to how our earthly choices blend
With forces that no mortal can restrain.
Like Faustus bound by Mephistopheles,
Or Lucifer cast down from starry heights,
The fallen soul surrenders to the breeze,
And burns away in everlasting nights.
