to give thanks and praise to the bough that breaks under the weight of age and pa**ing days to the song of the swan when one's time has come like pa**ing clouds in the sky all must someday die to falling leaves in autumn's shades the promise of youth that fades under the winter's waning sun the wind and snow of a life now done like the tides retreating from tranquil shores cold lips that draw breath no more to the shifting sands of time lost measured by star and frost to scattered blossoms of spring this glory in which we sing: o ephemeral pa**ing life consumed in the funeral pyres consumed in our burning desires even these flames must expire abiding ash and splintered bone sodden earth and weathered stone right of finality devouring infinity works will come undone so as what we become unknowing certainty of that which sets us free to the end of days to give thanks and praise