Parable of the Passing Flowers
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Bittersweet the passing hours,
Sweetly wondering through the dying flowers.
Happy they came out in spring,
Heavenly bodies, fragilest lives, the wonder it brings.
Then as quickly the time...
When their ends, they draw near,
No sorrow and regret, no doubt and no fear.
Though brave-quickly fading, fragrance and face,
Never do they lose hope, whilst rooted in grace.
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