By Yasen Vedrin
(Pearl Seeker)
The fate will tear away like leaves inside,
From here and there, the travelers passing by.
The early hours turn to late, worldwide.
After the dawn — our final hour is nigh.
And this so winding, little segment's space,
With such a long or short period to run,
Will always reach the point of endless grace,
Where all our written, earthly paths are done.
And there’s no fear that someone is arriving back,
While someone else is starting out at dawn.
A sufferer dies his whole life on the track,
To struggle when his final breath is drawn.
The old man will not ask where they have flown —
The years of youth that long ago took flight.
And past the mournful curtain, all alone,
There is no one to stay his step tonight.
He would remain, if there’s a need or space,
But only as a memory and sign.
A little lamp, however small its place,
Amidst the darkness like a star will shine.
Within a memory, man paints his trace.
He leaves behind his links and furrows deep.
The cosmos in his soul finds living space,
With brilliance that the ancient people keep.
And should someone sigh out that he was there,
Even if gone forever from the race —
In love, owed to a memory and prayer,
He will revive inside a heart's embrace.
For every seed grows like a sprout to view.
It grows and lifts its tender height to sky.
If one is man — he’s born to love anew
And be a spirit, where the dust must die.
And though the mortal remnant snaps and breaks,
Giving its final fruit until it's done,
It will not end... Yes! For the spirit's sakes,
The pathway of the Meaning — Life — rolls on...
