Paradox

Paradox

The leaves on the trees
fade with color.
People come from near
and far to take in
the ‘painting’ stretched out
upon an endless canvas.

Pictures taken
‘capturing’ moments…
Brilliantly ‘we’ embrace
death’s final memory.

Did that come out
correctly?
Did I write the word
death?

We try to run from
death’s sting.
Blinded by the luminous colors
we are unable to ‘see’
the leaves no longer
receiving an abundance of
oxygen.

So beautiful—the leaves aging…
letting go.

Do we see the timeless
letting go in our elders?
Wisdom’s guides…
do we sit admiring their
changing faces?
Their minds no longer the rich
fluently flowing reservoirs.
Can we sit beside them in
their silence and be present?

We, each of us
will face this season~~~
this Fall.

The tree will let us go—
let us land and
once again we will touch the
earth which breathed in us
Life.

An eternal Spring
awaits us—
another season to behold.

Though I cannot see the unknown,
I trust the canvas.
My hope never far…
still it is gone.

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Comments

Paradox — 2 Comments

  1. So very appropriate, and appreciated.
    Just had 81st birthday….. know the sentiments.
    Been ‘there’ with parents and siblings. Thank you Sandy.

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