Changing seasons hark new beginnings,
Like the shoots of tender plants on a Spring morning.
One plant dies, another grows.
One door shut, another opens.
Every last respiration gives birth to another.
Friendship down, memory wakes.
Life Sparks in, and out.
Mourn for the gone, rejoice for the born.
Are we in a recycling system i ask.?
Maybe yeah, maybe not.
No one knows.
But all we know is, when the current light dims out, another will surely beam in.


© ©Hills