transient candels



If I were to ruminate on the passing of time,
I would cripple with depression.

If I were to contemplate the dying of beauty,
I would mourn with misery.

If I were to ponder the days departed,
I would be consumed with nostalgia.

If I were to remember the transient kin,
I would writhe with grief.

If I were to recall the fading memories,
I would perish with hopelessness.

And if I were to enumerate life experiences,
I would know my end is near.





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