Impermenance

I'm not sure why every leaf must die,

Why every beginning must have an end,

Why all things are temporary,

And nothing is permenant.

In this transitory world of ours,

Nothing can persist beyond the advance of time.

Life, as all things, is fickle,

Impermanent.

Truly, naught but change is unending.

We shall never tread an unending line,

For we instead conform to a circle,

This age old loop we hope to transform with enginuity.

But there is beauty in the repetition of alterations.

Patterns are as intricately fascinating as they are swiftly unintersting.

The fleeting nature of life only serves to enhance the import and impact of every moment.

Joy and content made desirable treasures,

Grief and desolation made harbingers of despair and anguish.

Perhaps eternity would not prove to be a monotonous slog,

But I much prefer a world of time.

One with beginning, the occasional middle,

And the definitive end.