Transcendence

Like a lighted candle enclosed
Within the glassy walls,
The flame of life burns
In this ephemeral reality;
Savouring its own warmth
Unscathed from the mysterious breeze.

The light will gradually fade
Like the crepuscular blaze of sunset,
Only to be obscured by the rebirth
Of the nocturnal grandiose.
The ticking of clock counting
The days set by destiny.

We are, but the withered flowers
Trodden by the step of time;
Your warm embrace
Will hold its amiable touch
Like the pure mountain snow
In the hands of time!