Transitional Phase

 

Fire burns both true and false,

indiscriminate of tree or man.

Death burns neither,

for nothing ever dies.

Things pass away, far away

to realms unknown, undreamed,

perhaps dreamed,

perhaps not.

But death burns neither

only seems.

Horses water at the stream,

only seems.

Then they only pass away,

far away,

or perhaps nowhere at all.

so small, so small.

Do we go anywhere,

anywhere at all?

About johnsmithiiimxiii

John Smith, IIMXIII is the avatar of an award winning poet, artist, etc. who still lives in the Palouse country of the Pacific NW. He has not received much notice with his prose . . . but as his avatar, I hope that he keeps plugging along.

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