I have had intimations of my own mortality.

I have had intimations of my own mortality.
Not willfully but thrust upon me by life's cadence.

It's endless march of life and death
The slow wheeling of the seasons.
A crisp river frozen In moonlight,
Birds nest hanging
Bird in flight

Your face leaned over me in ecstatic repose
Drinking in life without delay.

I suppose we do all possible
To escape that day,
To live again without thought or care
In time but not of it
Imagining and struggling to loosen it's meaningful bonds that tie us to each other
To the earth where we will rest
To once more become part of that
Whence we came.

I have intimations of my mortality
And struggle for acceptance
Yet to stave off death may not be so sweet
As the moments and years and decades that make a life.

It is that time between death and birth
That drives us in our search for meaning
For love
Fulfillment
Commitment to a cause greater than ourself
To a life filled with meaning and
A death that has been filled with love
A life that has been well lived

Echoes of our own mortality
Intimations of my own mortality
Resound upon the water
The meadow
My heart held by your love
Eyes locked to yours
Hand to hand
Heart to heart
Beating
Holding
Loving.

David McCullough
September 17, 2010