Looking at the Beginning, from the End

You can't see it with the eyes,

You can't smell it or touch it,

You can't hear it coming,

It's an entirely new realm

never before traversed

or understood,

With ominous clouds and hidden pitfalls,

The distant horizon is familiar

with prominent trees and mountains

stoic and steadfast,

Full of memories of times long passed,

Every day moves away from the horizon

fleeting from storm to storm

blindly,

Retreating farther into darkness,

Time hurries not to reveal all,

But eventually one becomes two

inevitably,

Leading to bitterness and misunderstanding,

The horizon fades from reality

like an echo carried in the wind,

A picture-book

with no more pages left to fill,

And the realization that there is no way to see it

no way to sense it with the mind,

It is unforeseeable

and only felt in the heart.