Seasons come and go,
Each year it's the same.
If only people changed like the seasons.
Winter, Summer, Autumn, Spring;
Each one holds a secret,
It's own special magic.
Winter holds a promise that there is
Life after Death.
Spring ignites a spark; a sliver of
Hope and a pinch of Joy for healing.
Autumn holds the key to
And Summer is the Epicenter of
Summer is the result; the After-life;
It is Rebirth.
Seasons change, and people do too,
But it's a pity - a shame - that people
Don't change the same way.
People are too unpredictable; we change
Our minds too many times, we change
Our Destinies every day.
Seasons accept their constant cycle;
Their Natural Pattern.
People will never be like the Seasons.
I guess that's what makes us all
In this way
We are Designed -
Seasons harbour a Secret;
It's own special Magic.
We too, are our own special Magic.
Winter promises Life after Death,
People are promised Happiness after Depression.
Spring ignites a spark of Joy for Healing,
People are promised Joy and Healing after Pain
Autumn holds the key to Eternity,
People are promised Eternity in the Promised Land.
Summer is the Epicenter; the After-life,
And people are the Epicenters of their own lives.
We are our own Masters of Catastrophe.
People are Reborn in Faith.
Looking at it now, maybe we are much like
We are predictable in our unpredictability.
This is our prized Possession.
This is our kind of Magic.
People have seasons, people are seasons.
Winter is our Darker side,
Spring is our Healing,
Summer, our Euphorical - blissful side,
Autumn, our Procrastination, our Changing,
Just like the Seasons, we change;
We mold our Futures and become who we are meant
We become part of a Cycle.
"Oldie but a goodie." The title was given to me as a topic for unprepared poetry writing 2 years ago, and I finished it within 5 minutes of our given time of 1 hour, and a few weeks after submission, found out that I was overall item winner.
That pushed me even harder to pursue Poetry.