If only I had been there this time

Effortless, a breeze blows. Something moves in the distance, it's figure grows. The lines between space and time become something to reminisce and yet in this moment I just don't give a shit.

A hard wind now, moving with force to stop and to plow. Standing in the cold shaking as I stand acting so bold. "This is the time for me," I say as the wind picks up again throwing everything it's got at me.

As I raise my arm to shake a fist at the sky a flash of lighting comes down ready to strike with might. All at once my life takes flash and memories of what I've seen play past.

I fall to my knees so paralyzed the tears can not escape my eyes. My arm still raised but my hand open wide. Darkness pours in lines and I know I'm about to die.

"It's my time," I think to myself as I receive my last vision. Then my last thought bleaches through my mind, "If only I had been there this time," but I'm not sure what it means.

Forest for the trees

The leaves on the trees move just enough to
show off their creative shades as a slow
breeze passes through leaving things just as
they were before, like a phase. The ground
still retains the effect of being slightly damp
from a past days rain.

Stones sit silent like new fallen snow,
decorated in a glistening pinstripe professing
the evidence of another's trail. A fallen tree
covers objects that once thrived below,
convinced of growing too tall, post-pardon,
no bail.

A solemn leaf waits in a standstill, the
mornings dew collected in it's curves. One
drop trespasses too closely to the edge and
falls, now the leaf blows away. The forest
knows the tree is gone.