A fleeting breeze am I; a flame
About to die; the final note
Of a concluding dirge; a warm
But swiftly passing touch. And why
Must I desire to be a star
Eternal in the heavenly realms
When I am not forever? Soon
My flesh and bones will turn to dust,
My footsteps in the sand erased,
Because I am what all life is:
A fleeting, passing, dying breeze.
But ere I pass this be my joy:
To touch thee ere this breeze pass on,
To warm thee ere this flame be gone,
Ere this sad soul melt with the sun,
Ere my life’s dust fly with the wind,
Ere my brief candle turn into night
And I be a forgotten dream.
This be my task while ’tis Today,
Ere I conclude my fleeting stay.
Mine is to touch and pass away
Mine is to touch, then… pass away.