Once when we were young and free
Things were well defined and easy to see,
But the passage of time has fogged our mind.
Leaving us metaphysically blind.

But then from somewhere within the fog I hear.
I hear a bell toll
For another departing soul.

A sign of a passage of time.
A sign of a passage of mind.
We attempt to peer between pictorial blinds.

Snap shots flashing past
Fragmentary glimpses that does not last.
Just visions from a flimsy looking glass.

A passage of time.
A passage of mind.
The presence remains.
The essence stains.

Again the tolling bell.
To all farewell