The Pen and The Wind

Absent flakes fall,
Fleeting, and sparse their fragile icy forms,
Drift down, into a certain fate,
The ground below. 
And conditions are too hot, 
They will not survive even a minute down there. 

Perhaps they know though, 
They are aware of the fate that awaits them,
And it burdens them not,
For they do not think of their time as fleeting, 
Do not even know the meaning of such a thing, 
They act on instinct alone, 
The snowflakes live with purpose, 
They dance on the wafting winds, 
Not for anyone or anything else, 
They dance with the entirety of their being,
And when they reach the fate that was foreseen,
There is no regret, there is only a welcome acceptance.

We are so moved by the snowflakes,
We regard them as a symbol of mortality,
We pity their fleeting lives, 
Without knowing the snowflakes have lived more richly, 
Than you or I could ever say we have. 

No sense putting things off any more,
I know that it is coming,
And no matter what I do,
It is going to happen.

So with what little time is left,
I may come calling upon you,
Giving you one last taste of me,
So I can continue in memory.

And when all debts are paid,
When all friends are prepared to mourn,
I will take one last heavy sigh,
And step bravely to my death.

Lakeside blooms, 
Know nothing of doom,
They never know when they’ll wilt.

They’ll soon be gone,
But we’ll all go on,
Mortality is for what they’re built.  

I sing a song of sunny skies, 
Of flowers that grow and die,
But they don’t regret mortality,
They’re happy of the sun they did see.

                                        The birds and bees light up the day, 
                                          They love the pleasure and the play,
                                               They’ve no regret, no remorse,
                                                 They know its something to enjoy of course.  

 This sweet sound of living and life, 
                                                Is a rhapsodic melody, 
No matter what the rhythm may sound right now, 
                                                          It’s the tune for all the world to be. 
Don’t let your mind be consumed,
                                              By things like despair or sin,
Because Life is a beautiful song when heard, 
                                                            Through a bamboo bowstring violin.  

                                                            I sing a song of mountain tops, 
                                                        And all you can see from there, 
                                                 The sun-kissed skies within your eyes,
                                        Its such a wonderful thing to care.

                                       The love within us all,
                              Should never fade away,
                    If you aren’t getting any love,
           I’d give you mine if you’d stay.  

This sweet sound of living and life, 
                                                Is a rhapsodic melody, 
No matter what the rhythm may sound right now, 
                                                          It’s the tune for all the world to be. 
Don’t let your mind be consumed,
                                              By things like despair or sin, 
Because Life is a beautiful song when heard, 
                                                            Through a bamboo bowstring violin.

I sing a song of sunny skies, 
Of flowers that grow and die,
But they don’t regret mortality, 
They’re happy of he sun they did see.

                                        The birds and bees light up the day, 
                                          They love the pleasure and the play, 
                                               They’ve no regret, no remorse, 
                                                 They know its something to enjoy of course.  

 This sweet sound of living and life, 
                                                Is a rhapsodic melody, 
No matter what the rhythm may sound right now, 
                                                          It’s the tune for all the world to be. 
Don’t let your mind be consumed,
                                              By things like despair or sin, 
Because Life is a beautiful song when heard, 
                                                            Through a bamboo bowstring violin.

A faithful follower asked me to do a piece as if it was my last poem written. I aim to please. 

My body is weak and weary, 
Worn from the winds of Time.
Within the chaos I sought to instill, 
Order, through a bit of rhyme.

Memory, My only companion, 
Begins to tell the tale of Me.
It shows me things I deeply regret, 
And sights I loved to see.

I do not curse what is happening, 
I have played my role in full. 
Time to exit the stage with a bit of grace,
Respecting Mortality’s rule.  

Within moments, I’ll be gone,
From this mortal world to the ages.
I shan’t go far, because you see,
I’ve left my soul within my pages.  

I sit and sigh in this dreadful place, 
Frittering my time away,
Try as I might to raise and leave,
I am forced to sit and stay.

I sit and sigh, bored out of my mind,
While supposed knowledge flies by,
The room is full of such sheparded souls,
 None of them questioning why. 

They chat and murmur amongst themselves,
Frittering their time away,
Not a lot of time in the mortal coil,
But they have nothing to say.