Time passes,
shadows shift, waning
light made precious
by beckoning end.
Once believed in forever,
guaranteed tomorrows –
fallacy now shattered
by mortality’s knock.
New souls, born
of promise, eyes hungering
for what shall be, ignite
a fire of hope in me.
Will I be remembered
when life has begot more life
and I am faded ancestry –
will my essence linger?
Flesh rots, memory
fades, but the spirit
has its own calling –
will mine rise again
in trait, or disposition,
or with fresh complexion
and renewed intention –
an immortal circle?
(Image:Â livingwisdom.kabbalah.com)
One Woman's Quest 