A sadness greater in each passing moment
A mourning for life
A passing of age and perceptions
The crystalizing of the self into a nothingness
Knowing this will all pass
Seeing a moment as the last
No possessions
No cares
Giving up and letting go
Is this what dying is?
Or is it the simple truth of each minute passing
a recycling of the old
as the past is just this: gone ~ old ~ dead
And knowing this I slip into a deep sadness and wonder and wish of Enlightenment someday
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