The Immortal Earth

Though I approach my Autumn years,
with each year I grow closer to the spring.
Only through eyes polished in tears
can I appreciate the joy she brings.

Only now that my eyesight fades
and my hair that was jet is turning grey
do I see emerald in each blade
of grass and gold in every solar ray.

And though, each year, I move a little slower
while my end rushes headlong towards me;
I know it’s because, with each year, I grow a
little closer to eternity.

When my soul shall live in branches, not in bones
and my blood shall be red rays of setting sun;
my wrinkles, ripples on a lake caused by a stone
then I and the immortal earth shall be one.