Winter

A season of wisdom,

A season of the harsh cold.

What mysterious it unfolds,

It is line between end and beginning!

A story is complete,

Death everyone is to meet.

What he holds they fear,

When he hails they know their end is near.

The old sit comfortably,

And listen, ever so feebly,

The sounds of the wind chime,

And feel the passing time. 

They sit comfortably,

And feel, ever so calmly,

Their essence fading,

And their soul leaving.

They sit comfortably,

And see, ever so carefully,

Their last memories of immense joy,

And begin to feel coy.

They sit comfortably,

And taste, ever so gently,

The sweetness of rest,

The taste it at their best.

They sit comfortably,

And smell, ever so faintly,

The smell of the end,

And they begin to feel time bend.

They are awoken in a joyful place,

For this is an altruistic space.

A place were people are equal and tend to have talks,

This is the land where the sun sails and moon walks!