I will die,
but what am I?

There are footprints in the dust
behind me,
for a breath of seconds,
the span of decades.
They fade to breeze,
like echoes of a nameless lullaby.

I gaze at my hands.
The veins shrivel,
muscles deteriorate,
bones crumble.
In the minute vastness,
I see a reflection,
distorted by mortal
destruction.

I push forward.
Daunting truths
reverberating,
like hymnals.
My steps will,
one day,
cease leaving marks and
become part of
the dirt.

In a space of unlimited
light and sound,
What am I?

“Your existence is a burgeoning leaf,
growing and breathing
to change with the passing of seasons
and one day…
Let go.
Carried by the wind
to destinations unknown."

In a sea of vibrations and
energy,
what am I?

"Moonlight in a shadowed forest.
Tenacious wind, unfurling sails.
A bird building nests
through a storm.
Impassioned tears, of a lost love.
The distorted reflection
staring back
at you.”

Through all the screams
of arrogance
and shame,
An ethereal voice
continues to
chant.
What are we,
in a land of eternity?

"You are more and less than egos know.
Countless footprints
are left to dust,
but each one in the same.
Every step
and grain of sand is
you."

What are we
in such a fragment of the
cosmos?
What are we,
in such fleeting of moments?

“I am everything.
You are everything.”

One day I will die
…but what am I?