April Fin

Here lies the end of time.
The end of a month.
The finale of something old.

Thirty times this fact.
We face off each day.
Knowing our end will come, the sun.

Will love arise anew?
Will our hearts shine superbly?
Will we find contentment calmly?

I'm not sure.
For I have found at times that I am aware of my surroundings, but I am blind.
I'm not certain of nothing.

This awareness builds within us all.
It might be a tatagatha garba, or it might not.
Quickly now, the wolves are running.

So too, must we run.
We must swim.
We must travel, on wheels.

A jaunt.
A saunter.
A shambling fool who'll take to the hill.

Therein lies a beginning.
The start of something new.
They'll, see a moon rising.