The End

Here is a small writing originally written on June 22nd, 1993.
I did a small touch up on it today. This is a glance on my passing thoughts of then. Seems relavent today, seems transient and yet there always.

The End

A gust of wind flows
And a few fall into mud
These are rotten leaves
But tomorrow it may be a bud

I saw the end today
May be the end will see me tomorrow
I may sight it today
But Will I fight it tomorrow?

Even unknown is the astrologer
When his end is near
May be a day would come
When time and tide would wait for everyone.