To Begin...

Her mind wants to cascade, it scurries
Into a waterfall of worries
But she can’t, expedient
She must hold onto the present
And some type of reality,
That she will die eventually
And so will they,

It is true.
What is new?

Why does it all of a sudden seem real?
Reality has stricken its wipe on her back, she can feel
Know she ceases to slack, on the road of life
Of which the means is rife
And the end is eternal.
This life inscribed until its end, like a journal.


© 2007 Nasirath bint Loukman