seasons of the skull (a poem)

autumn:
a thousand years ago i lived in the dna of ancestors
i’ll never meet as i walk my hundred years on this earth…
but i might walk over their bones and not even know it.

spring:
and then i was born from an endless entity of the past,
with growing wonder and question for the new dawn,
as the rain and wind bakes in the glow of the rising sun.

summer:
as those who live now turn to those who will come after,
the truth of my future remains hidden within my own mind,
as i am only one person, with one dream, and one chance.

winter:
but a dream can shatter into a million fragments in seconds,
and i wonder where my dream really came from in the first place:
if it was from me, or the people who comprise my future and past.