A sign in the woods
The woods often traveled
Points me to two fields

One, a barren wasteland
The other, a lush meadow
And in each, stands a man

The man of the wasteland
Barely stands
Stricken by age
The man of the meadow
Has energy
Given by youth

Speaking to each
The old man speaks
Of naught but the past
The young man speaks
Of naught but the future

In each lies the essence
The essence of their existence
Which is neither life
Nor death
But perhaps
It is both life
And death

Because the old man’s past
And the young man’s future
Contain both life
And death
Both good
And bad

Without all
Can one exist?
Without one
Can all exist?