Even us! We. You and me.
Along with others...
Will one day return to dust.
Particles we see and breathe,
Floating freely.
To do without one thought from us.
As life we take for granted,
Becomes eventually hushed.
Slowly recycled,
Like spokes on a wheel.
Rushing with a speed until,
That final destination is reached.
With disbelief leaving many grieving,
A time that seems to have been brief.
But...
Even us. We. You 'and' me,
Are just figments of a majesticness.
Here experiencing the rush,
Prioritized in this womb of silence.
To replenish the Earth as a must.
Minimizing whatever it is...
You and me. We! Us. And collective others,
Perceive to be kept significant.
A significance that makes no difference,
When appearances to experience them...
Returns to a ball that spins.
To begin and end when...IT does!
Not you. Or me. Or 'us' to see. To change,
IT!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem