Do you hear the pitter-pattering on the acidic fields of Arizona?
Do you hear the slow-coasted whisper in the coal-like shadow of the summer’s eve?
Do you hear the stampeding thunder of the day cluttering the streets of gold and linings of sliver?

Do you see the arise of life lifting the darkness and the golden rays serving down on to the sea of tranquility?
Do you see the newly born life striving to the top only to see the lonely nights end?
Do you see the laughter and smiles in the mid day praised no more?

Do you taste the fruits of heaven flowering the fields of memory?
Do you taste the vibrant life of a tree towering the skies and heavens in the morning of sorrow?
Do you taste the wines of life springing out of the sated ground?

Do you feel the gentle rays of life casting down on the slow spring break of a winter’s day?
Do you feel the slow, temperate, cooling breeze of the deepened blue accenting life’s autumn fall?
Do you feel the delicate touch of another’s end comforting the tears of a river’s flow?

Do you smell the slow soothing scent of a flower’s bloom in the rising preview of life?
Do you smell the fragrance of life’s company aroused with passion, dead of meaning and sorrow?
Do you smell the aftermath of life’s end of goals, dreams, visions, and freedoms?

But who is to hear?
But who is to see?
But who is to taste?
But who is to feel?
But who is to Smell?
But who is to remember?

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Life’s aftermath is one of sorrow,
If the goals and dreams are just to borrow…