Something it is that changes a season,
Like a wind or a shade,
Or just a changed direction.
Something promotes the moving on
Of days,
And pushes the wind to
Propel the clouds.
Soft clouds
Float slowly by.
Something it is that
Makes an enemy of a friend,
Or a friend of an unmet stranger,
Changing places from this to that,
And condition to condition.
Something it is that passes through
The stages of our lives.
Something is gone from the
Comfort of a friendly touch,
Like one is numbed to life.
Something it is that holds us here,
Paralyzed in change,
And passed on
To an unsure fate,
Something that's lost.
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