consider
the field is never always smooth;
there are times that the grass turns brown
and the flowers wilt and their petals
return to the ground
…consider these things…
what was a frolicing maid becomes a hag;
the virulent man shrivels and becomes incapable
and so the sky, never always clear and boundless
and so the clouds, not always childhood pleasantries
but they come into chaos and dreariness
and pile dollops of dark humor
and so our lives,
darlings, O sweet ones -
regard these things well -
and so our lives too pass from radiant days
to gasp below dreary shades
from a happy, happy song to a dirge over the dale –
and not all our rosaries and beads and prayers and faith
nothing will halt, in spite of stories they recite,
nothing will halt the sun and the passage of time
and so like the artist it is best to observe
like the artist in the field
capture the moment, savor the life
and if anything, make of one’s life a beauty
that others may pause to gaze at
as pausing to gaze at a rose, the cherry blossoms…
be you makers of beauty,
darlings, O darlings, consider these things
O sweet ones…