The Seasons of Life

I’m dancing the dance of summers end, feeling the wind blow closer, as it brushes my skin. I stand tall against the creeping time when all will fall. What has life to offer to a broken man? An empty shell of an existence wasted and coming to pass. Clutching for the dreams that never shall be, a flourish of regret at the acknowledgement of worthlessness.
Who shall remember the forgotten, when remembrance is not shared? An individual, a sole being, lost in the countless numbers of the world. Acceptance and accomplishment met through freedom of achieving life’s goals that shall never be.

The autumn breeze descends to touch my soul, life crisps and dies from within. The verve drains as the tiredness sets. Ambition falls to the unyielding ground to be trampled upon. The fruits of my labour witnessed by none and wasted to all.

The chill of winter bites deep to my bone, loneliness and despair creep through my mind. Am I dead? Am I that worthless wreck that served no purpose? My skin has grown cold and my eyes frozen over so that I can not see the world around me. Life passes by, not knowing of my existence.

And what of spring? It should call of a change; bring new life to those that reap it to those that yearn for the warmth in their heart. To those it can bring life, but to those already lost it only brings misery. A calling of awakening for those that prosper, a call for mockery to those who have no hope or ambitions.
Will I still be standing tall when the last stand strong? Will I be there at the day of reckoning, knowing my ambitions past are accomplished? Was my life a waste?