The Summoning Knife

I am false as the shadows, going to light, Eternal as leaves, flying in a strong wind, Sincere as the words, at the bottom of gin; Remorseful as fighters, who ended the fight. I'm beautiful as sparks, falling quickly to earth, The stuff dreams are made of, that sparkle in vain; Quiet as the storm, when beginning to wane Grows lovely as baby-filled mother, in birth. I'm here and I'm gone, like a footnote to life. I lived and I died, lost in a time-stream: Every moment had meaning, the one that I mean- Then sun cut the cord, like a summoning knife.