Gasping
Stumbling
The old man persevered
His life was brief
Yet interminable
He grew strong
In spite of the bitter cold
Marking the month of birth
The struggle was unceasing
Weathering the rain and heat through his prime
Marking the seasons passing
Much was learned
Though it will be lost
Unable to pass along the om
Hard-earned
The next must learn anew
Perhaps his journey will be less fraught
Pausing, he sees the figure
Waiting patiently
Arising fresh and new
He begins to move
Approaching with a warm smile.
“Come along, then”
He says jovially,
“I’ll help you with that last bit.”
The old man grins wanly
“It’s only twenty minutes to go.”
The pair walk
Arm in arm
Quiet Dreams 
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