The winds eroding the edifice of age
sweep in its wake the beauty of the vain
second by minute, minute by hour
constantly battling the superfluous exterior
the exotic glances dimmed by time
the furtive looks a rare occurence
the clock of life races on to oblivion
each tick a forgotten memory
left behind is the unpleasantness
the boorishness and the deceitfulness
racing ahead is the accumulated goodwill
things done that still swell the heart
held in the bosum of the countless souls
touched by one's good deeds
so one day shall crumble the hollow shell
bowing to the passage of time
sieving through the blowing wind
left behind will be the gold-dust of deeds
of kindness, peace, and humility
heads will turn and salute
a life well lived indeed.
