There will come a last kiss.
There will come a last smile.
For we inhabit
flesh and bone
only a little while.
There will come a last song.
There will come a last dance.
There will come a last,
and unassuming chance
to say and feel all
the things we know
we can.
There will come a final tear,
a final grief,
a final fear,
for we are bound by
time and rot,
the gnaw
of passing years.
There will come
an end to all.
The light and dark,
in turn,
shall fall.
So live well, knowing
nothing is
permanent
except
impermanence.
Quick!
Savour each kiss,
each smile,
each dance,
each song.
Quick!
Savour each tear,
each grief,
each fear,
for none
will last
here long.
The gnaw of the years
discriminates not.
There will come
a last love,
a last touch,
a last thought.
And I hold you
all the closer for it—
so mortally besot.
pm poetry 