As transitory as breeze
Are the afflictions we encounter
Which will sabotage like termites
The integrity of our fabrics
If we try to despise them

Accept them wholeheartedly
And wrap them all in a bundle
With curtain of season
And let it float
In waters of survival

History is a basin of mistakes
Supporting the river of ultimacy
What that might be
Remains a mystery
Which gives credence to intimacy.