LifeCycle

The cycle begins with a haphazard arrangement of passions

Though, the cycle never has a beginning nor and end

Constructed human fantasies that fetishize beginnings and endings

But the body was aware of the chill in the air

And the blazing heat and the first time you hear birds

A constant cycle

A birth and a death eternally stumbling over one another

It's hard to meet grief because she constantly changes faces

Grief, once, told me she wears many masks

Too much going on to keep track but consistent in her visits

At least I expect to meet her when the leaves on the trees are gone

And the grass is covered in snow

Or the buds on the trees bloom

And warm rain showers down from above

Perpetual state of dawn and dusk

Cyclical and cynical

Constantly changing as I walk the time line, getting older

As I spend another revolution around the sun

Grief told me she wore many masks

And I see her, sitting at a table

Expectant of us to begin this again