The Past

Let go of the dying past
that grips us all in its final breath.
Have no sympathy for its passing;
peaceful closure comes in death.

An infant’s cry is a final breath,
its first words like its last;
peaceful closure comes in death
as the boundless soul becomes the night.

Words, if true, will last forever
while falsities come and go with the wind.
Boundless is the soul transcending the body,
no earthly form to call it by.

Falsities disappear in the wind
like a thought, a dream, a grain of sand.
All from this earth must grow to die
for reasons unknown by the minds of men.

Thoughts are grains of sand in our dreams
that, like our souls, are wide and vast.
Live the life you wish to lead;
let go of the lifeless past.