Michael Charles Sinclair


First hot, cool, then cold.
For the young to the old.
In the life before you and this life too,
You know who to give the glory to.

But on your journey be agile,
because life though precious is fragile.
And it doesn't really matter,
What makes the glass shatter.

So many never glimpsing their tomorrow, until their present is passed.
Deceived that life will continue to last.
Forgetting that death is not merely by chance.
We are all just ashes, returning to ash.

To those we love, whom have already passed,
Remember them, to make their memories last.
Alas, time moves fast.
Heaven knows that we are just dry bones, returning to dust and ash.

We, too, will pass.
Some day we all must go back.
The body dies, but the soul will last.
Till we meet again, my friend--fade to black.

© Poetry.com