without impermanence beauty is not

When we are born we die, our end is but a pendant of our beginning…

Beginnings are beautiful, like the start of spring.

When plants and flowers bloom,

The skies seem brighter, and the clouds softer.

But the start of life, is short and over too soon.

Because once the baby learns its nature,

It wishes to be young again all over.

And then all at once it cannot stop,

The years and months rush past you,

Like a flurry of moths and butterflies they attack the eyes.

Then you look around one day, full of shock,

As you see you are not that child anymore,

But now there is life to be lived.

Those butterflies live only one or two week,

Flowers only bloom for a month or so.

It seems all that is beautiful has a clock on its heart,

Time ticking down with every beat,

Rushing and urging you to get to your feet.

To step outside and face the burning summer heat,

To look at the light, to see the sights,

For all which is beautiful has a time limit.

It is upon birth we are given our time,

From that moment on we worry about death.

Watching the sands of time fall down each day.

Our beginning is but a resemblance of the end,

Soon it will be last spring and last summer,

Someday you might see your last flower bloom.

Will you know then, what you know now?

That all which is lovely in this world is not meant for long,

That the brightest most beautiful stars burn out fastest.

And perhaps that is the way of the world,

If seen every day, beauty is bound to be forgettable.

In light of new beautiful lights and dazzling sights.

We require death to understand what beauty ever could be…