My life is changing,
Like the four seasons,
Though without any reason-
I find myself scared of it.
Change; it’s a horrifying but beautiful thing.
Like in the early mornings of spring,
The birds begin to sing,
But soon enough they leave,
Taking their song with the warm breeze.
I wish for things to stay the same,
But I know everything is always evolving,
Like the stars above.
We feel in such a deep way,
flooding our veins throughout the day.
Some let themselves feel,
then move on, as if it wasn’t a big deal.
Some cling onto their emotions,
causing commotions.
Some push it away,
For every word I can’t say,
I try to write it down,
but at the end of the day,
I know I’ll never find the words.
They jumble together,
like the sunset’s melting colors.
For every excuse I make,
Comments
The only constant in life is change: I have to remind myself of that nearly every day. But sometimes -- sometimes! -- it is a great comfort. With sort of with the same meaning as, This too shall pass, I suppose (I'm full of cliches today). So when you say it is both horrifying and beautiful, I think that's exactly the way to put it. Likening your life changes to the ephemeral quality of the seasons (joy in the form of birdsong, joy taking its leave) is sage.
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