Reflections on Ash Wednesday

My mind's eye
wanders across a snowy barren field
seeking the solid shadow we'd left behind.
A grave yard cold somber
lone on the plain with the pines standing guard.
Grey head stones, white piled snow,
they lie alone, so alone with their end.
All end here, with the stone, snow, and tree.
The dust of my frame recognizes its kin
mortality weighs with the silence of years.
Often I return here to this cold shade
Bearing the marks of my ancestral fate and doom
Alone this is my end, the dust and snow.
The Light calls beyond the cold and shade
freeing from the cling and grasp of the dust
A Cross in the road, born on my brow, engraved in my heart
whispers hope of an end beyond the grave.

"Remember man that thou art dust and unto dust thou shalt return"