The rose that spends all of time
Dancing in the light
Is as sure to die
As the one that just
Cries in the dark.
Beauty moves as light moves
Opening petals to sing at the sun
Lowering snoods to weep at the moon
Finding sparks from the shining sky
Finding fuel from the dirt of its roots.
So at midnight’s chill, rejoice!
The sun will rise.
At noon’s furnace, rejoice!
The sun will set.
If you are no longer the hero
In your own narrative
Change the narrative
Or change your actions.
Probably both.
It is sometimes comforting to realize something must be uncomfortable.
To quell the worry, I told her I’d like a crystal ball to see the future.
“Don’t,” she said, “for you’ll focus on future horrors and miss all the future pleasures.”
Sometimes we go
To junkyards of souls
Searching for engines
To refurb our own
And shock and behold
In wrecks bought ’n sold
We’re taught how to salvage
Jalopies of gold
A. B. Clarke 