A bud,
just starting to bloom.
Soon it becomes
A thing of beauty.
With its vibrant and pleasing colors,
It becomes admirable, inspiring,
A breathtaking thing, that makes passersby
Halt and take notice.
It stays that way,
sometimes for long,
sometimes for short,
But never, forever.
Eventually withering,
Going back to where it came from,
Slowly deteriorating,
and then altogether diminishing.
If we watch its progress closely,
It can be life teaching,
Because, what are we,
If not like a flower,
With our time to come,
and time to go,
already preplanned
And our destinies written beforehand.
What we do with what we’ve been given,
Is in our hands,
Like the flower that inspires the gazers.
But, eventually, we do all have to
Go back where we came from.
****
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