Today I’ll ponder,
on these scars.
Tonight I’ll wish,
upon a star.
Tomorrow may bring,
another wound,
but wounds can heal,
if treated soon.
Yesterday,
I thought of death,
and felt the wind,
sigh with his breath.
Not today,
he whispered clear,
perhaps tomorrow,
but do not fear.
In the end,
he comes to all.
The weak, the strong,
the big and small.
He’s timeless and constant,
Death’s always “been”,
and he has no pity,
foe or friend.
He’ll lead me on,
to the unknown,
giving me the thing,
he can never own.
So I will not fear him,
and I shall not fret.
For tomorrow,
has not happened yet.
Death comes to us all.
