She describes impermanence of human existence as the slowly withering rose.
As the bedsheets freshly made up,
Cracked polish on the toes.
In constant changing,
Fleeting,
Not one moment like the next.
The answers are the questions we dance along perplexed.
Impermanent moving standstill,
The photo of each day.
The smell after the rainstorm,
When your hair fell in that way.
The changing of the seasons,
The morphing that is you.
The lines inside your palms,
The way the sky cries blue.
The love you found and lost,
The heart that mends and breaks.
The sunlight through the window,
The toll that trying takes.
The calm of peace and quiet,
The roar of human sound.
The moments we spend alone,
The wisdom we have found.
The steaming of the hot tea,
The flicker of the flame.
The pain that needs the healing,
The different things we blame.
Impermanence is only all-encompassing sage.
To hold on and let go of,
To turn the hand and page.