Eventually,
All good things,
Must come to pass.

The Day must fade,
Sweetly and succinctly,
Into the Night's kind embrace.

The seasons chance,
And the years go,
Our Final deposit in the Crematorium.

The Summer years pass,
And fade into fall,
And into winter, the death of us all.

Yet after every winter,
After every death,
A New Spring blooms,

Life lives again.
Fight and struggles again
The Sun rises once more.

The plants come back,
The animals out of sleep,
The child is born.

Every day the Night must come,
The moon must shine, and have its say.
But even the mighty moon must too, give away, to a brand new day.