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.
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