All that is ugly, is beautiful,
Intrinsic to nature,
The green that blooms in spring,
Withers in autumn,
The pettiness that nurses a grudge,
Gives way to compassion,
Fervor to repulsion,
The seed flowers and wilts away,
The grey streaks in the hair mark the end of youth,
The child becomes a parent,
There are many outcomes,
Could it be one energy playing many?
A universal consciousness that reinvents itself,
Its intellect unlimited,
It causes the sun to rise and the moon to eclipse,
It challenges the ordinary mind to crack open its code,
From where do the thoughts come and where do they go?
Why is the soul quiet and the world an echo?