At last! Blue sky on the horizon, Or is it another approaching storm? It’s getting harder and harder to tell. Is that snow drifting, Or cherry blossoms carried In the wind of life’s passing? And who really knows if it’s winter, Spring, summer or fall? All substance seems forever lost In these short notes seldom written; And once more, out of touch, Lost in, or out of time, This reflection takes a deep breath And gathers the strength to continue Its purgatorial existence As merely a shadow of itself.