The petals of a flower spread and fade.
Their delicate beauty turns haggard grey.
Through spring and summer they frolic, playing.
While amethyst day turns to darkest night.
One by one petals fall, soft, so slowly.
Petals land on the hard ground or fly
into the dark blue sky, wind carrying them.
Soon they, too, will meet with the cold dirt.
As time passes leaves become unbound, free
from the branches of the eternal tree.
And like thee they will crumble and leave, does
thou now see that nature is time's plaything.
The conclusion of our lives is to be
servants to nature and lone slaves to time.
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