The brightness illuminated my soul;

Blinding my eyes…

But only temporary.

As the rose blooms and it’s thorns sharpen,

Grey hairs dangle on my shoulder.

Yet the same water ripples in the lake,

The same trees sway in the same wind.

Now the trees are older- as am I.

They’ll outlive me.

And I’ll outlive the fly on my shoulder.

In fact, Everything ends.

Time goes on.

The world will continue to spin.

The trees will outlive me

And I’ll move forward into a bright light.

The same light we are born into.