Dying Is A Wind

Once was in a lifetime, many things will flow and

steady, let the songs near in the trees and bees came

through, the breathing breath was truly stopped, the

heart mellows down and slow, the green grass was

become brownish color, the wind actually sick and

ill and dying alone, the love was fallen down like

lovesick moment in a flash, the head the body the

soul the spirit being sicker and sickest to the world

of weaknesses, but no power at all, beauty will melt

and felt in the watery grave, the mystery of death

like stone cold what a bone and old of history in the

modern years like ten thousand years ago in centuries

and centuries likely onto the seventeenth and eighteenth

century of lifestyle

Written by

Michael James Brindley

12-14-15