One blossom echoing all of life
Through spring and autumn both joy and strife
From bud to bloom to ailing grip
From forceful flow to drying drip
Bearing fruit; spreading pleasant scent
Vigorously fulfilling its purpose meant
Till death takes hold and plucks with violent rip
But in descent the spirit wind softens the trip
And gently laid upon the ground
Snuggling into the rest it’s found
Bloom looks unto the ripening seed it’s sown
Seeing the blossomed tree to which it’s grown
And though the blossoms fade the fruit remains
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