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Poem

All seasons come with grace and not all fall for them with grace,
Nurturing all they preserve,
What makes them different from among themselves,

We all are like seasons,different in all ways,
But commonality makes us alike,
We all must prevail,
But prevalence breaks when we try to interchange,or break the lines,

Escapism is like a ball of lines,
One which I can jump from new,old or unknown,
It enjoins the I from yesterday,today and tomorrow,
And we all are part of the lines,connected,

A space with hands outstretched to many self,
The self is a safe of trauma,loss,peace,war and beauty,
All within one thing;heart,mind body and soul:The self,

Preservation helps to make grow,
Containment keeps alive,
But longevity may break if they take too long,

Despair and joy to live is prolonged,
Life span is short no matter how long lived,
It still feels like a short period of time,
Like the span of a fly wandering,

Survival must persist,
Even if it doesn't wander,
Its span will always be short,
No matter how long it waits,

As its predator lurks from above,
In patience,resilience and hunger,
Life offers a lot of hands,
Among which are good and bad,

One must always seek to live,
Hands outstretched will either be good or bad,
One can't simply wait,
As the fly will reach its promised demise,

Life must go on.

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