When the Evening and the Morning Meet

Yesterday, I saw my Grandfather.

He was older than I recalled

His frail body shrunken with the years

He sat, limp and bowed

Tired after the fierce battles 

And the rigors of the adventures

Of that Great Field of Combat;

Life

But in his brown eyes I saw

That old sparkle

That as a child I always glimpsed therein

The spark of hope and of life

Shining on through the years

Fueled by the breath of Life

Panting through his parted lips, 

And I wondered, What happens

When the evening and the morning meet?

I had my hopes; He, his experiences

The joyful, the regretful

And those known to no other human soul.

I had my dreams; He, his visions

Be they mares of the night, pictures of the past

Or glimpses of the wonders of another waiting world.

I had my worries; 

Of the hazy outlines of my tomorrows,

He, his memories

From the unchangeable shapes 

Engraved on his yesterdays and yesteryears.

I had before me

The rising sun of the dawn of life,

And wafting over him were the cool breezes 

Of a colorful sunset

Which ever so softly woos mortal man

At the eventime 

To the long sleep of death.

And when finally comes the darkness of night,

The day coming to a close 

In this threadlike Life of Time -so easily cut-

When the moment comes 

To step into the yawning expanse 

Of eternity -A timeless Time-

Then will begin a bright new Day

For then indeed, will the evening and the morning truly meet.

Yesterday, I saw my Grandfather.

He was older than I recalled 

And he called me by my mother's name.

All too soon it felt,

We had to say our reluctant goodbyes

And as I turned back at the door 

For one last glimpse of a sinking sun

A dying Son,

I caught the flash of wetness 

In his longing eye

The slightest of quivers 

To his once full lips

Then indeed knew I what happens

When the evening and the morning meet.