Memento Mori

Fall makes me think about death with harvested fields and decaying leaves. Death is all around us, but we treat it as unnatural, though everything comes back to life in the spring.

In my sleep, the other night,
I saw the strangest thing
I awoke so suddenly
it must have been a dream

I was running through a field
twas barren, filled with stumps
of wheat that once did grow so tall
now nothing grew at all

I found a seed and planted it
in mulch so black and cold
I left it there to rot and die
I left it to unfold

The seed soon grew into a plant
so mighty when compared
who would think that little seed
could be the cause of that

One seed turned to seven
and seven into more
and soon the field would sway again
golden like before

Then lo, I heard a distant cry
in that forsaken place
I turned around and dropped my jaw
when I saw the blaze

A fire crept along the field
tearing it apart
and limb by limb I broke into
a pile of human parts

I sat up, sweating, in my bed
awoke so suddenly
"it must all have been a dream"
I thought going back to sleep

The morning after I had all
but forgotten what I had seen
the warning wasn’t clear enough
It had only been a dream

Yet the wheat that proudly wears its crown
is cut down in its prime
before it dies reminding us
that we all have our time

The vanity of men persists
we’re trying to forget
memento mori - the words insist
That all of us must die
Including you and I