[Please click the landscape photo above to hear "Bittersweet Melody No. 4," composed by the author for wooden flute and Celtic harp.]
I am a worm, consuming Earth I go,
And then a snake emerging from its den,
Then a fleur de lis.
In each instance
I don't think about my end.
No, whether flower or beast
My thoughts be
Not on death,
Not on my final breath,
Not the prospect,
Whether worm or bloom.
That I will someday
Face my doom.
No, I think of this right here, right now,
The sun on my leaves,
On my dappled snake's skin,
The Earth still sweet to
My worm 's taste.
On towards death
I beat no hast.
A symphony is known
Not by its final notes alone.
Of course, you must agree.
Then why can't you see?
It's true of life as well.
Death's no magic spell
That's deeper than
Life's joys and tears,
Not a moment that
Negates our years.
Our time we spend
And then the end.
Yet on the end
Fix not your gaze,
Instead on how
You'll live your days.
YOU ARE READING
Reflecting
PoetryPoetry, prose, and haiku-like phrases on things eternal and things fleeting. Highest ranks, #1 in Deep Poetry, #1 in Book of Poetry, #1 in Meaning of Life, #1 in Enlightenment, #1 in Conceptual.
